LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.?i.?^Upyright No 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



''Oh! blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
That each viay fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n, 
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall:' 

—Pope. 



ECHOES FROM 
THE CANNON 



BY / 

CORNELIA J. MATTHEWS JORDAN 

EDITED BY 
THERESA JORDAN AMBLER 




BUFFALO, NEW YORK 

CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 

1899. 






43149 

Copyrighted, 1899, by 
THERESA JORDAN AMBLER. 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 



'■^-.. 



btJOi^O COPY, 

...~--S.1l 



To 
VIRGINIA AND MISSISSIPPI, 

Mothers of Princes, Soldiers and Statesmen and 
The United Daughters of the 

CONFEDERACY. 

This Volume Is dedicated by the Compiler. 



CAN WE FORGET 

Can we forget 

Those heroes brave, who living yet, 
Must scan us with their spirit eyes 
In mute reproach and sad surprise? 
If ever there should come a time 
When their dear names and deeds sublime 
Shall cease to be the lofty theme 
Of musing thought and tender dream ; 
If ever ive for whom they fell 
Should fail the noble truth to tell, 
Of how they rushed at Duty's call, 
Nothifig witholding — venturing all 
In that great Cause of bloody cost, 
So sacred— tho' so wholly lost ! 

-C.J.M.f. 



INTRODUCTION. 

THE poem entitled Corinth and several others con- 
tained in this volume were published for the first 
time soon after the Civil War, when sectional 
feeling seemed to have so warped the minds of the people 
that they were recognized on the one hand only among the 
S2:)oils of War, and consigned to the untimely grave pre- 
pared by those whose victories they failed to extol; and 
on the other, while like Longfellow's "Arrow and Song" 
they may have found lodgment somewhere during the 
long period of Peace, which it has been the privilege of 
our Southland to enjoy, they have doubtless faded from 
the memory of some, who through their devotion to a 
cause doomed to suiier the eternal blasting and destruction 
of a sword more powerful than the arm that wielded 
another in its defense, will now take up the refrain of the 
'*song," again proclaiming amidst the distant muttering 
of War "honor to whom honor is due," — again carrying 
those piercing "arrows" more strong than weapons of 
steel to defend the helpless, to strip from the conqueror, 
though he may have won the spoils, some of the trophies to 
b3 divided beneath the shadow of the sword of a common 
foe. The echoes of fife and drum, the rolling waves of 
bugle and cannon call forth from the ashes of that per- 
ished Phoenix, arms and strength to bear a nation's colors 
and now it has been accorded — a child of the Co7ifederacy 
born to a member of Beauregard's staff amidst the 
"storms which threatened Corinth," the privilege of 
offering again to the public these lyric verses as a just 
tribute to the memory of one who ever tried with her pen 
to vindicate the wrongs of those, whom sword and fire 
would despoil, and who, if she were here today, would 



INTRODUCTION. 

place fresh wreaths of laurel upon those brows, which 
amid the eulogies being heaped upon our Northern 
brothers now seem to be forgotten. United we stand 
again upon the battle field, where not only shot and shell 
shall prove of what metal we are made — but the '* Pesti- 
lence that walketh in darkness or the Destruction that 
wasteth at noon" may wipe out of our ranks those who 
might have otherwse lived to labor and to wait in that 
state of life unto which it had pleased God to call them. 
*The Burning of Corinth,' " published herein for the first, 
time, pours forth in melody akin to the rotes of that most 
graceful bird, whose song is said to be sweetest in death, 
the rhapsodies inspired by a sense of injustice, a perception 
of the plan, which would overrule if possible the eternal 
fitness of the Universe in order to carry death and des- 
truction in its path. Hoping that all, who read these 
songs thus uttered before the Invisible Hand had again 
touched the chords that must vibrate within the hearts of 
those who suffered during the four years of that awful 
struggle, will recognize above any feeling of animosity the 
task which I have undertaken iu introducing this volume 
as one of love and reverence for the memory of her who 
was to me the embodiment of purity and truth, I have, in 
following out the motive of her lines, endeavored to act 
in accordance with her injuncton to me in my childhood: 

*'Thy heart is like this stainless page 
Daughter ! — in thy youth, 

Let wisdom on its tablet trace 
The fadeless lines of Truth." 

Theresa Jordan Ambler. 
Lynchlurg^ Va., Ay gust 1st, 1899. 



CONTENTS. 





Page 


The Burning of *' Corinth," 


9 


Corinth, 


15 


Richmond : Her Glory and Her Graves, 


33 


Battle of Manassas, ..... 


55 


Our Fallen Brave, 


60 


The Death of Jackson, .... 


62 


The Cadets at New Market, 


65 


The Graves of our Home Heroes, 


68 


Mt. Airy, ....... 


71 


Marking the Spot where Stuart Fell near Rich 




mond, 


77 


A Voice from the Ground, . . . . 


78 


Song of the Maryland Exiles, 


79 


The Forest Grave, 


82 


*' Trust in God," 


84 


In Memoriam, 


91 


En-Avant, ...... 


93 


The Missing Form, 


94 


The 2nd Virginia Cavalry, 


96 


On Guard, 


97 


Davis and Lee at Richmond, 


98 


Flowers for a Wounded Soldier, 


100 


Col. S. Gibbon, 10th Va. Infantry, . 


101 


Burial of Lieut. Wm. L. Goggin, Jr., 


102 



Tl 



CONTENTS. 



Tho Departure of our Volunteers, 

Side by Side, .... 

15urial of tho Seven "Lynchbnrgers," 

*'Do they think of me at Home?'' 

General Garland, 

Captain D. A. Ringo, 

'1\^ a Widowed Friend in the North, 

Flowers from the Battlefield — Shiloh, 

Lee's IMrthday, 

Our Gallant Dead, 

Tho Soldier's Dream, 

To a Distinguished Tolitician, . 

Lines, 

Additional Words to "Maryland 

Tears for the Fallen Brave, 

The Old Confed, 

Words of Welcome to our Confederate 

The Unveiling of the Monument, 

Dust to Dust, 

A Fast-Day Hymn, 

Leslie, .... 

Up and Onward, 

The Fmpty Sleeve, . 

War Pictures, 

Virginia! — A Battle Song, 

Hope and Wait, 

Jehovah-nissi, 

Past and Gone, 

Virginia's Champion, 

The Old Confed, 

Victory! .... 



Veterans, 



CONTEN"TS. 






vii 


Only a Picture, 183 


Wounded at New Market, . 






185 


The Snow, .... 






187 


The Prisoner of Fortress Monroe, 






188 


To a Wounded ex- Confederate, 






193 


The Death of the Young Partisan, 






195 


Virginia's Dead, 






201 


An Appeal for Jelt'erson Davis, 






204 


Farewell to the Flag, 






207 




THE BURNING OF "CORINTH." 

JSTD this is "duty" — such the name they give to 
puerile deed, 
When of a petty Tyranny they'd seek to sow the 
seed; 
This is the work of Conquerors! — by Irave hands proudly 

wrought, 
Thus by the iron grip of Poiuer^ they'd seek to strangle 
Thought. 

Ah, foolish dream! — a higher will controls our mental 
fate. 

What God himself bestows on each, man may not ^^ con- 
fiscate^^ ; 

Burn* on — light up the pyre — behold amid the kindling 
blaze — 

A thousand memories swiftly throng — *'the light of other 
days. ' ' 

Brave gallant hands ! could not some nobler work your zeal 

employ. 
Or are such bloodless deeds as this your highest martial 

joy? 

*" It will be recollected that by order of the Provost Marshall the 
recent publication of Mrs. C. J. M. Jordan, entitled "Corinth and other 
Poems of the War," was siezed as an incendiary document a few days 
since. The whole edition has since been committed to the flames and 
entirely destroyed." — Lj^nchburg "Republican," August 24th, 1865. 

(9) 



10 THE BURNING OF ''COKINTH." 

Pray tell me wliat the grave offence these little pages gave 

That o'er them War-iuorn Conquei'ors 
Should thus so madly rave. 

Was it that on them names are traced, that must outlive 

your own, 
When 'neath the Truth's emblazoned light your puny suns 

go down? 
Was it for Jackson's praise, the man, whom angels honor 

now — 
And who while struggling with us wore 
God's seal upon his brow? 

Ye may not snatch one jewel bright from his immortal 

crown, 
Or cloud his martyred spirit's joy with your poor human 

frown. 
Or was it that, when Johnson died, he left a hero's name 
That will defy the blasting touch of 
Envy's kindling flame? 

Hark! from the plains of Sliiloh comes an echo loud and 

clear 
**He did his duty and he fell a blood-crowned martyr 

here." 
On — light the pyre his memory all your anger will outlast 
Nor can your burning torch consume the pages of the 

Past; 
A glorious halo — light surrounds those grand historic 

names, 
That will outlive the fading glare of these poor feeble 

flames. 



**THE BUKNIKG OF CORIiq"TH.'' 11 

Burn on — burn out the simple lines a woman's hand hath 

traced, 
But know that when in ashes laid tliey luill not he effaced; 

They will not perish though a Tyrant's will decrees they 

must — 
*' Corinth" will live when on Ms crumbling urn is written 

''dusty 
On with the work — light up the pyre the while we sit and 

wait, 
With folded hands and upward glance at Thought's bright 

Temple-gate. 

August 28th, 1805. 



^ 



CORINTH 



CORINTH. 

[April, 1862.] 
' ' Praeteritorum Mem oria E ven to rum . ' ' 

AND of the Pioneer — behold ! I come 

To drink thy balmy airs, enchanting West — 
And musing, pause amid thy yernal groves 
-^ Bright Mississippi ! Here the smile of God, 
Hath shone in days agone as once alas, 
I deem it shone in Eden. Here the Sun, 
Eesplendent emblem of creative Light, 
Once threw his radiant beams protectingly 
O'er Nature's virgin charms and answering shades. 
Long cloistered in lone haunts, delighted met 
The Day God's loving dalliance. Then the deer 
In dreadless freedom roamed these trackless wilds. 
Dumb monarch of the forest, and these woods 
Echoed no ruder sound than Redbird's note. 
Or sportive squirrel's chirp, or the low hum 
Of tuneful bee, as daintily he sipped 
The fresh, cool dew from untrod violets. 
Here, too, the fearless Red Man boldly scanned 
His rich, broad domain — Lord of all he saw — 
The rolling river and the pathless woods, 
He proudly strung his matchless bow and marked 
With burning glance his undisputed prize. 
Anon, as Evening shadows soft and still 



(15) 



1() CORINTH. 

Wooed from hor covert wild his dusky nuiid, 
The wiiiting skilT unloosed from river niargo, 
15ore lier light, iiiry form o'er moonlit waves, 
AVhile to the music of his plashing oar 
ller voice gave sweetest echoes. 

Nought to wake 
A fear within his breast, he bowed in love, 
Untutored, reverend love to the Great Spirit; 
And while in mortal pangs the stricken game 
Gasped at his feet, his soul rejoiced to think 
Of future pastimes in the Huntsman's Heaven. 
But hark, a boding sound! The woodman's axe 
Clangs on the stillness like a note of war ; 
A now light flickers through these leafy aisles 
And sends its struggling beams through all the West. 
The lordly savage tleos aghast before 
The march of civilization. Speedily 
The ponderous timbers clear, and homes are built. 
And towns spring up as if by magic wrought. 
While from the spot whore erst the wigwam sat, 
The wreathing smoke in circling eddies mounts 
From the rude chimney of the Pioneer. 
Yea, through the forests mingling with the sound 
Of choral echoes floats the merry peal 
Of children's laughter. Lowing herds the while 
Browse in the meadows, and the ploughshare turns 
The ready-yielding sod, from whose black depths 
Leaps forth, ere long, tlie green expanding blade. 
Alas I ah\s ! that o'er a scene so fair. 
Time should write fearful chancres. 



CORINTH. 17 

Lo! today 
Over the village spires, dark and high, 
Floats the red signal of a Nation's wrath. 
Hushed are the sounds of agricultural toil, 
And the old music of the housewife's wheel 
Mingles no more with the low tuneful hum 
Of cradle lullabies. War, fearful War, 
Noddeth his sceptred head and silence falls 
On all the haunts of household revelry. 
The song and jest are hushed and Sadness lays 
Her warning finger on the lips of Mirth, 
While Thought foreboding, looks with prophet glance 
To the dark veiled Future. Would to God 
That from her mystic shrine some Priestess mild 
Might meet the dread Avenger, and command 
The billows of his wrath, till passive all. 
Each wave of passion should lie calm and still 
As moonlight on the ocean. Would to God 
Some angel from His Heaven might descend. 
And o'er my Country spread his sheltering wing. 
Till past the threatening storm. Alas! alas! 
No kindly Sybil speaks — no ^'' peace he .s'/i7/," 
Is echoed o'er the waters; dark and cold 
And high and higher still the mad waves rise — 
Till the black tempest gathers; from afar 
Comes the dread, muttering thunder — long and loud 
liolls the foreboding sound. Virginia bares 
Her white breast to the shock, while round her brow 
Plays the red, lurid lightning. Pale she stands 
In the hot glare, pale bat unyielding still 
Though her fair bosom is thick set with scars, 



18 COKINTH. 

And every feature marred by dreary lines 
Traced by the hand of War. Majestic still 
She riseth proudly from the Northman's blow 
Strengthened and calm. The thrilling victory-cry 
Raised at Manassas sends its bugle-call 
To the far western wilds, and, hark! is heard 
A glad response from Shiloh. 

Just when Spring 
Leaped from her violet couch, all beautiful ; 
When forest aisles echoed the cheerful notes 
Of Nature's choristers; when vernal glades 
Sheltered the rippling flow of laughing streams* 
Vocal with hidden melody; when birds 
Carrolled in leafy shades, and lambkins played 
In the green meadows where a thousand flowers 
Opened their starry eyes ; when the sweet homes 
Of Corinth, smiling through her grand old trees. 
Gleamed forth like nests half hidden ; when the world 
Put on its brightest robe, and Earth shone forth 
In her old pristine beauty, lo ! a cloud 
Settles above this Eden ; Corinth stands 
Girded with battle armor ; flaming swords 
Flash from her rural gates, and through her bowers 
Wind the dark slime-prints of the Serpent's trail. 
Brightly the morning dawns — that April morning 

Whose noon-day sun. 
O'er Shiloh's bannered hosts and battling legions 

Shines clear upon. 
As pure a light as crowned the brow of Eden, 

Before the fall, 
Bathes lovely Corinth, as her hills re-echo 

Brave Joh^-sok's call. 



CORIN^TH. 19 

"Up to your places, men! see they are pressing — ■ 

The foe, the foe ! 
"Stand by your colors firm — let not usurpers 

Trample them o'er. 
^*AU on the die is cast — Life, Truth and Honor — 

Thinkof it well! 
"Look to the God of Right — meet the Invader, 

With shot and shell. 
"See! in your native South, cherished homes smiling 

Through wood and glen; 
"Save them from Spoiler's touch — save them, or daring. 

Perish like men! 
"Thousands upon you wait — wives, sisters, mothers; 

A Nation's eye 
"Looks with confiding trast; stand by your colors! 

Conquer or die!'''' 
Never a word in vain spoke the great Leader ! 

Glad to obey. 
Valiant and daring men, buoyant and eager. 

Rush for the fray. 
Forward, with gallant step, firmly advancing, 

On, on they move. 
Where, face to face with Death, warm throbbing bosoms 

Bulwarks shall prove. 
Quickly the line is formed, all in their places. 

All to a man, 
He in the very front fearlessly dashing, 

Leading the van. 
Darkly with Nature's hymn in chorus blending. 

The fearful peal 
Of cannon-thunder through the air resoundeth, 

With clash of steel. 



20 COEINTH. 

Bright forms are there, of many a Southern dwelling 

The joy and pride; 
Young warriors brave, stern veterans worn and hoary, 

Standing beside. 
Beautiful brows, which e'en the winds of Heaven 

Ne'er rudely kissed, 
Shine mid the darkness, like those stars whose brightness 

The clouds assist. 
Fair youthful bosoms brave the shock of battle, 

With iron will; 
Young hearts, untried in life's stern conflict, proving 

Invincible. 
What is it nerves them thus to meet the struggle, 

With dauntless hand? 
But that like heroes they will die or rescue 

Their native Land. 
Loud swells the battle din — bold leaders cheering 

Their gallant men, 
Speak but the magic words, Home^ Wife or Mother, 

Then strike again. 
What can their spirits quail? not the fierce mutter 

Of Tyrant's curse : 
Breasts which their Southern valor proudly nourished, 

No cowards nurse. 
See, o'er the gleaming village spires of Corinth, proud 

and high, 
Our Country's Flag floats out to meet the breezes dallying 

nigh; 
While they who view from Shiloh's plain, its waving folds 

afar, 
Welcome its pure and holy light, as Glory's beacon star. 



CORINTH. 21 

Brave hearts grow braver 'neath tliat light, and careless 

bosoms warm, 
As, proud and high, it waves amid the battle's darkening 

storm. 
Dim fading eyes, through dust and smoke, its stars and 

bars descry; 
And mutely bless the glorious Cause for which they're 

proud to die. 
On, on the foeman presseth close, our columns onward 

move; 
Each eager with his own right arm the other's strength 

to prove. 
Loud rolls the deafening cannon's peal; wood, rock and 

hill reply ; 
While, through the vaulted Heavens is heard the South- 
ron's victory-cry. 
High o'er the fearful battle's din the glorious poeans 

swell. 
Till on the clouded noonday air, is borne, alas ! a hnell. 
Brave eyes with saddest tears are dim, and dauntless 

bosoms warm. 
Press forward eagerly to shield their prostrate Leader's 

form. 
Strong arms enfold him tenderly, and stout hearts, true 

and tried, 
Are firm no more, while bending now, their fallen Chief 

beside. 
They gather round the crimsoned sod that holds his 

dying head ; 
Their burning tears fall thick and fast upon his gory ' 

bed. 



22 CORINTH. 

TIloy note the swiftly waning pulse, they gaze into his 

eyes, 
While sullen Death, to all their prayers, a last fond hope 

denies. 

lie calmly views the weeping throng ; he bids them all be 

true; 
llo points them to our honored Flag, still waving high in 

view, 
Amid the battle smoke, behold! its gleaming colors 

bright — 
As o'er his spirit breaks the dawn of Heaven's unfading 

light, 
Ilis gaze is fixed ; the warm life-stream now darkens all 

the sod; 
The golden cord is loosed, and Johxsox's soul is with 

its God! 

ISouthrons, behold him now! 

Eartli's every trace 
Gone from his lineaments : 

Heaven's purer grace. 
Solemn, yet beautiful, 

Lighteth his face. 
Come with a noiseless tread ' 
Look on your Leader dead! — 

Xoble was he ; 
Never a braver heart 
Yielded its blood to thwart 

Bold Tyranny. 
Slander's envenomed breatli 
Wounds not majstic Death; 



CORIN'TII. 23 

Love girds him now; 
All his brave duty done 
Bright laurels nobly won, 

Circle his brow. 
Heaven rest the spirit brave ! 

Comrades! draw near! 
Bear his corpse tenderly 
Back to the rear — 
Tears from a Nation's eyes 
Honor his bier. 
God be the widow's friend, 
Comfort and solace send — 

God be her stay. 
Hear when his orphans cry. 
Hear, and their needs supply, 

Father, alway! 

Thus, prayerful lips caught up the dirge, and bore it to 

His throne. 
Whose word declares: I will not leave the fatherless alone! 
And many an eye was dim with tears, as from that dear- 
bought fi^ld. 
They saw their glorious Leader borne — alas, his broken 

shield ! 
They saw his placid brow serene, calm, beautiful and 

blest ; 
As from the noisome strife of earth they bore him to his 

rest. 
A wail, a dirge, a tear for him, and with the cannon's 

roar, 
Those mournful funeral echoes sweet, mingle their tones 

no more 



24 CORINTH. 



^'' Close up the ra?iks, close i(p the raiils^'''' and veterans 
worn and scarred, 

Rush to the rallying battle-call of noble Beauregard ; 

His gallant charger hotly spurred, he dashes to the front? 

Braving the fiery rain of shells — daring the very brunt. 

A thousand eyes rest anxiously upon his dauntless form; 

A thousand prayers go up for him amid the leaden storm. 

No cowering fear is in his eye, no look of dread dismay ; 

But, like an eagle, fearless, bold, he views his mangled 
prey. 

He views his columns firm and true, his grand unbroken 
line. 

And glowing thoughts light up his face and in his dark 
eyes shine. 

The musket's rattle quick succeeds the cannon's deaf- 
ening roar, 

As o'er the dark contested field legions on legions pour. 

All through the fearful aisles of death, bold leaders 

proudly dash. 
And thrilling war-cries strangely blend, and glittering 

sabres clash. 
Backward, through reddened paths of blood, the sullen 

foe is driven, 
While o'er the scene, still calmly smiles the Sabbath light 

of heaven. 
On speed the hours, those fearful hours of struggle and 

of death. 
Until amid Night's solemn hush men pause and take 

their breath — 



COKIKTH. 25 

Aye, pause to nurse their fainting strength — new prowess 

still to try, 
When breaks the slow returning dawn along the eastern 

sky. 
The holy stars shine tranquilly, the moon looks down the 

while, 
On many a pallid, war-worn brow, and many a dying 

smile, 
Young lips that seemed but made to quaff Life's golden 

chalice bright. 
One moment drank and now behold the goblet drain'ed 

quite. 
Oh Life, oh Death, if ever ye a godlike power may wield, 
'Tis when ye stand thus face to face, on Glory's carnage 

field; 
'Tis when ye grasp each other's hand amid that mortal 

strife. 
Whose issues with a Nation's hope, a Country's weal is 

rife. 

Behold! along the eastern sky, faint streaks of dawn 
appear — 

The stars are fading one by one, the day again is near; 

Night shadows gone, no reveille awakes where none have 
slept; 

Morn lights anew the gory couch where Death his vigil 
kept. 

The line re-formed, the freshened air stirs with the can- 
non's breath. 

And straightway now begins again the fearful work of 
Death. 



26 COEINTH. 

*'0m, 0/i, j*jre<§s Ofij the foeman turns his vanquished files 

again, 
Minions! though Johksois" leads no more he has not died 

in vain!'''' 
The words like magic stir the hearts of bold and gallant 

men, 
We counted not the bloody cost of daring courage then; 
They counted not the sacrifice, no patriot heart denies, 
When Honor, Freedom, Liberty, make up the glorious 

prize. 
Behold ! above tlie shining spires of Corinth proud and 

fair, 
The Flag bequeathed hut yesterday floats in the morning 

air; 
They bless its light, they think of him, who with his dying 

breath, 
Whispered their noble battle-cry of ^^ Victory'''' or 

''Death!'' 
And pledged anew to Uod and Truth, to Justice and to 

Right, 
With swelling hearts and dauntless arms, they boldly dare 

tjie fight. 

Thoy dare the foeman's vaunted strength — they meet his 
burnished blades. 

And blood again flows silently through vernal forest 
glades; 

The sword and sabre fiercely clash, the cannon's peals 
resound. 

Like thunder tones through woodland haunts, and smil- 
ing vales around. 



COKIKTH. 27 

His serried columns closer press their boasted strength 

to wield, 
While dark forebodings stir the hearts that bleed on 

Shiloh's field. 
A cloud hangs o'er our Southern sky, dull thunders 

darkly roll, 
And gloom now shades each patriot brow, and fills each 

patriot soul ; 
The dauntless arms that yesterday, struck terror and 

dismay, 
Where e'er their dreaded files were turned are worn and 

spent today. 
They see the Northman's strengthened hordes they hear 

the boasting cry, 
While loud his echoing guns resound along the vaulted 

sky; 
They mark his fresh-formed lines, their own thin bat- 
tered ranks the while ; 
And almost fear that on our Cause just Heaven lorgets 

to smile. 
They pant, they burn, they fight, they fall, thev grapple 

with dismay! 
While slow before the foeman, see ! our brave Right Wing 

gives way. 
The centre wavers—* ' God of right defend our Southern 

Flag.'' 
And Polk's sad prayer is echoed by the burning tones of 

Bragg : 
** Wilt yield my hoys, while Hardee stands toith cfraniie 

lines and true — 
Shall bleeding comrades vai^ily turn their pleadiiig eyes 
on youV 



28 CORINTH. 

The words awake the old heart-throbs, that proud and 

warmly beat, 
When patriots know no harsher sound than that one word 

— defeat. 
They lift again their dripping blades — they press their 

bleeding lines, 
And yet, doth Victory long delay her glad exulting signs? 
Polk cheers his brave, devoted men with blessing and 

with prayer. 
While Beagg and Hardee firm and bold refuse to know 

despair; 
But whose the brow, the glorious brow, and whose yon 

towering form. 
That shines amid the darkness now — a rainbow through 

the storm? 
A thousand voices shout his name and brave eyes brightly 

shine. 
As gleams the sword of Breckinridge along the battle- 
line. 
He points to Corinth, fair and bright — Heaven's light 

around her shed ; 
And asks them if her vines and flowers must yield to 

vandal tread. 
He asks them if their country's hope shall foolish prove 

and vain; 
Or if the hearts by God made free, shall wear the vassal's 

chain. 
An onward charge — a fearful rush upon the exulting foe. 
Speak their reply — while ball and blade responsive answer 

no. 



CORINTH. 29 

The hours wear on — those fearful hours whose memory 

long shall dwell, 
Deep, deep within the Southron's heart, its holiest chords 

to swell; 
He hears the battle's angry din, the rush, the charge, the 

roar. 
He knows that many a closing ear will heed those sounds 

no more — 
He sees his martyred battle -slain in mangled heaps around, 
While pale and bleeding, worn and scarred, the wounded 

strew the ground. 
He marks the calm, bright sun's decline and sadly thinks 

of those 
Who saw with him that day begin, but will not see its 

close. 
His heart grows heavy with the thoughts — the burning 

thoughts that swell. 
As here and there he marks the spot where some brave 

comrade fell; 
Some daring brother, firm and true, who brave and fear- 
less stood. 
Where Freedom's torch is fed with fire, and Truth is 

sealed with blood. 

Swift to the river's frowning marge the sullen foe is 

driven, 
While evening breezes softly bear an army's thanks to 

Heaven. 
Lo ! far beyond the gory plain the Day God sinks to rest. 
The Eagle seeks his eyrie now, the Dove her covert nest. 



30 COKINTH. 

The guus at last are silent, hushed the cannon's fiery 

breath, 
Night veils the scene, and bannered liosts pause in tlieir 

work of death. 

The moon looks calmly down again, lier pale rays kiss the 
dead, 

And holy stars keep quiet watch o'er Honor's slumbering 
head. 

The foeman's eye looks grimly back o'er all that crim- 
soned plain. 

And frowns to see the fearful work his hand hath wrought 
in vain. 

His vaunting legions proud and strong, by brave hearts 

still defied, 
His cruel hopes and purposes by righteous Heaven 

denied — 
His numbers slain, his banners torn, his minions held at 

bay. 
While calm and bright sw^eet Corinth smiles still in the 

moonlit ray. 
Her vine-girt homes safe sheltered still, their waving 

trees among. 
And still her own wild Western lays by laughing maidens 

sung; 
Her walls unbroken firmly stand, her gates are still un- 

riven, 
And high o'er frowning battlements her spires still point 

to Heaven. 



CORINTH. 31 

Thus may she stand, a monument of Southern valor 

tried, 
Of firm, enduring fortitude, and high, ennobling pride — 
Thus may she stand while rolling years speed on their 

changing way, 
And prouder strongholds yield at last, or melt before 

decay — 
Thus may her blooming daisies spring unbruised amid 

the sod, 
Till wars shall cease and nations own the calm sure 

Peace of God. 

Child of the South, brave Beauregard! 
Thy peerless brow, all Glory-starred 

New laurels now shall wear ; 
New trumpet-tongues thy fame shall find. 
New woven wreaths thy temples bind 

Of fadeless beauty rare. 

And while our Country's banner waves 
O'er Western wilds, o'er hero graves — 

Thine be the fearless hand. 
To lead through fiery pathways warm 
The fainting march, the battle- storm — 

Shiloh's devoted band. 
Thine be the sword that flashes high. 
While foeman's step is lurking nigh 

Our own bright border land. 

And when beneath her sheltering vines 

The blazing hearth-fire brightly shines. 

And Peace rings out her bells ; 



CORINTH. 

Thine be the crown that hides no thorn, 
The vernal bays by Conquerors worn 

"When Victory's pa?an swells. 
On with the fate that waits the free — 
Thy Country's praise shall follow thee — 

Her blessing proudly won; 
Go where thy daring footsteps go, 
Through future paths of joy or woe — 

Thou brave and peerless one. 
The God of Truth his favors shower 
Upon thee to thy latest hour ; 

And may the sweet acclaim 
Of unborn children, proudly show 
The deathless glories Fame may throw 

Around a Hero's name. 

CoRixTH, Miss., April, 1S6^. 



RICHMOND: HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. 

Patriae infelici et Memoriae Alortuorum fidelis. 



Part First. 




■ PON her rock-girt hills she stood, 
The City of the brave and good, 
Virginia's boast and pride: — 
God's sunshine on her brightly smiled. 
As Fortune on some favored child. 
Whom Heaven no gift denied. 

The morning light around her shone 
In roseate hues like Glory's own — 

The Day a splendor wore. 
That over Rome's imperial towers. 
Or Babylon's enchanted bowers, 

It never threw before. 

Sweet Night embraced her, like a friend, 
Who would the quiet pillow tend 

And dreams of rapture share, — 
While from the far off midnight skies. 
The stars looked down with sentry eyes 

Upon the slumberer fair. 

(33) 



34 RICHMOND. 

And side by side in solemn strength, 
As the swift years rolled on, at length 
". A rival City grew, — 

A rival in whose still embrace. 
Lay the calm brow and marble face, 
The gentle and the trne. 

Here twilight shadows, soft and gray. 
Stole through the muffled paths alway, 

"With tender, noiseless tread — 
And the sweet moonbeams kissed the gronnd 
Of Hollywood, with awe profound. 

As we would kiss the dead. 

But Richmond, in her living pride. 
Looked on tliis rival by her side 

With only tenderness; 
For in that rival's bosom deep 
ller lost ones found the tnmquil sleep 

That weary eyelids bless. 

Ah I little dreamed she then that those, 
In whom her loftiest hopes repose, 

Would by the battle thrust. 
Ere long, witli all their youthful charms, 
Be folded to her rival's arms, 

Commingled ^'diu<t to dust.^^ 

Lo! by her hearth-stones all secure. 
Love watched the roseate visions pure 
Of infancy's Ciilm sleep, 



RICHMON^D. 35 

And mothers looked with glowing eye 
On brave sons, in whose bosoms high, 
Lay mighty thoughts and deep. 

Within her goodly mansions old, 
Sweet girlhood did its dreams unfold, 

And manhood bowed the knee, — 
As beauty met, with blushing grace. 
The tell-tale glance and ardent face 

Of conquered chivalry. 

In power and splendor thus complete, 
Wealth pouring treasures at her feet, — 

Who might foretell her fate? 
As on her rose-crowned hills of greec. 
Like Thebes a wonder and like Rome a Queen, 

This stateliest City sate. 

But suddenly above her rolled 

Fierce thunders dark, and shadows cold 

Enwrapped her like a shroud. 
Then lifting high her queenly head, 
Her flag unfurled, her banner spread, 

We hear her war-cry loud. 

Full armed she riseth in her might. 
Her buckler Truths her shield the Right. 

Who dare her prowess try? 
Behold ! the Northman's frown intense 
Rests on her proud embattlements — 

Who may Ids strength deny? 



36 RICHMOND. 

Four years — four weary, woeful years 
Of blood and carnage, grief and tears, 

Unheard of erst before, — 
As bristling cannon scowl around, 
While battle thunders jar the ground, 

And clattering muskets roar. 

We see her struggling in her pride. 
Her slow-declining strength defied, 

Her brave sons, one by one. 
In open field, by forest rill. 
On Drury's Bluff and Malvern Hill, 

Falling ther swords upon. 

Strewn o'er Manassas' crimson field. 

Where hearts dripped gore, but would not yield, 

And gallant blades were riven — 
Behold them in their beauty lie! 
The brave, scarred form, the stricken eye. 

The dead to Glory given ! 

Ah! look! — it comes— the funeral train 
That homeward bears her battle-slain; 

Upon his bier we see — 
Crowned with green laurels that enfold 
A stricken brow and forehead cold — 

The youthful martyr Lee ! 

And swiftly now from other fields, 
With broken swords and shattered shields 
They're gathered — ^here at last, 



RICHMOND. 37 

To find, upon their mother's breast 
A peaceful, calm, unbroken rest- 
Life's stormy conflict past. 

From Bethel's darkened plains afar, 
From Cedar Mountain's gory scar — 

From Shenandoah's wrecked vale. 
They're borne upon their blood-stained bier 
To find a smooth grave-pillow here — 

All told, — Life's sorrowing tale! 

And from the sweet sequestered bowers 
Of Hollywood, Spring's early flowers 

Look forth with smiling eye. 
As to the low, sad, wailing tones 
Of Richmond for her martyred sons, 

They breathe a mute reply. 

They tell of seed in sorrow sown, 

By God's own breath mysterious blown. 

That we shall reap in joy — 
When we have laid Earth's crosses down, 
And the tuned Harp and fadeless Crown, 

No rude hands may destroy. 

Oh ! who so stern as not to weep. 

Where Walker and where Munford sleep — 

Her beautiful, her brave ! 
Who would not give her tear for tear 
On Cun'KINGHAm's untimely bier. 

And Warwick's hallowed grave ! 



38 KICHMOl^D. 

Who does not bless the sod that lies 
Above the dauntless heart of Wise? — 

The noble and the true ! — 
Hot tears that scorch the rose's bloom, 
But water, freshen and perfume 

The cypress and the yew ! 

What heart so dead as not to yield 
Fresh pity for the broken shield 

Of youthful EUTHERFORD ! 

Death's blood-stained arrow never gave 
To waiting worm, or yawning grave, 
A nobler brotherhood. 

0! long, proud list! Oh! household names! 
That each our meed of memory claims. 

We speak in trembling tone 
Of you, who battled, side by side. 
And for our bleeding Country died, — 

Our beautiful — our own ! 

A peerless band ! — we see them yet. 
As ere their glorious suns were set ; 

Their martyr duty done, — 
They stood where dangers thickened fast, 
'Till the fierce storm had o'er them past 

And Death the victory won. 

And now they sleep ! — the young and brave. 
The bold and daring — those who gave 
Their lives an offering free, — 



EICHMOND. 39 

That on that Country's hallowed shrine, 
Then- names, their deeds, their cause might shine 
Seals of her Liberty ! 

But lo ! around the mourner stands, 

]^ew gathered hordes and strengthened bands, 

That mock her still today — 
And still with glance of living lire, 
She meets their dark, revengeful ire 

With blow for blow alway. 

Four summer suns have rose and set ! 
Four winter moons the twilight met — 

Four years their records told, 
Of war and bloodshed, toil and strife. 
Disease and danger, death and life. 

And storms that darkly rolled. 

Four years, whose awful, bloody trace, 
In every heart, on every face. 

Drawn furrows deep hath made — 
Dark years, that on Time's landscape stand 
Like Upas trees, severe and grand. 

Casting their deadly shade ! 

And panting still with struggling life. 
Her frenzied heart with anguish rife. 

Her bosom torn and scarred. 
With scornful brow and frantic hand , 
She still defies the murderous band 

That press her borders hard. 



40 RICHMOND. 

Aye, ne'er despairing, though the right 
Must sometimes proudly yield to might, 

We see her guardians bold. 
Still holding high the "flaming sword," 
That 'gainst the Northman's clamorous horde, 

Her battered gates would hold. 

And still they're falling, one by one, 
The noble sire — the gallant son — 

The fair-haired patriot boy, 
Whose sunny smile must pass from earth. 
To be, henceforth, at home and hearth, 

But a remembered joy ! 

Alas!- the day shone clear and bright, 
And soft and fair, a Sabbath light 

Flooded the hills around ; 
The church bells rang their mellow chime, 
As ever in the good old time 

Of gentle peace profound. 

And humble worshipers, as then. 
From the rude thoroughfares of men 

Turned them with willing feet. 
In God's own house of prayer to find 
Rest for the weary, laden mind. 

And Heavenly solace sweet. 

Amid the great assembled throng 
He knelt — our own bold leader strong — 
Christ's lowly follower now, 



RICHMOND 41 

A liglit serene burned in his eye, 
And truth sublime, and majesty 
Sat on his peerless brow. 

He knelt and worshiped with the rest, 
That great, brave soul, whose patriot breast 

With sad emotions stirred — 
As 'mid the Sabbath's quiet hum 
The sound of martial trump and drum 

Were near and nearer heard. 

But was not Richmond safe the while 
Beneath the spring day's glowing smile — 

The April skies so clear? 
Was not her banner waving high. 
The vaunting foeman to defy — 

Her gallant army near? 

Ah, why should brave hearts feel alarm, 
If God will shield the right from harm, 

How can wrong triumph then? 
And while the air with war-notes rang. 
Calm vioces clear the chorus sang, 

Of "Peace — good will to men." 

The grand old anthem rose on high. 
From lips that owned no prophesy 

Of evil's coming hour — 
^''Te Deiom laudcwius^'' was sung 
By many a rapt, devoted tongue. 

With more than wonted power. 



43 RICHMOND. 

But hark! amid the organ's swell, 
A note discordant strangely fell — 

A sound smote every ear! 
Men glanced with nervous eye, and gave 
Unuttered prayers their cause to save, 

And women paled with fear. 

** WJidl is if — icJiof / " is whispered low, 
As through the aisles, the sexton now 

A hurried message bore — 
And Davis calmly rose — no signs 
Of aught to mar the tranquil lines 

His noble features wore. 

Yet as that kingly form withdrew. 
Instinctively each bowed heart knew 

That danger threatened nigh ; 
The booming cannon's rolling sound. 
Like jaring thunder stirred the ground. 

And tears filled many an eye. 

Too soon the startling truth is told, 
That brave Lee can no longer hold 

His thin and wasted lines; 
Already from the fields afar, 
Dark with the gathering storms of war, 

The foeman's emblem shines. 

Oh Richmond ! — city of the great^ 
Home of the brave — is this thy fate ! 
To be the spoiler's prey! — 



TRICHMOJ^TD. 43 

To fall wifcliin the conqueror's hands, 
The booty of his hireling bands — 
Alas, alas the day ! 

Granada wept no hotter tears, 

For the wrecked Moslem's broken spears, 

Than we have wept for thee ; 
And shall thy glory thus depart. 
Bright Idol of Virginia's heart— ■ 

Proud city of the Free! 

Hands on our mouths — in silent trust> 
Behold ! we bow us in the dust — 

Ood rides today, as when 
Throughout His broad creation rang, 
The joyful song the angels sang, 

Of " Peace — good luill to men,'*'* 

Hark! in the distance now is heard 
The tramp of liorses hotly spurred — 

They come — behold ! they come -— 
And all along each crowded street 
The wild throngs press with hurried feet 

Unmindful where they roam. 

And mothers pale, look on the scene, 
"With grave, sad brows and stricken mien 

*' All— all is lost!" they cry- 
Alas ! our Country's hapless fate ! 
Homes, hearts and hopes, all desolate, 

Would we could only die ! 



44 RICHMOND. 

''Would thou— would'st to thyself, oh God! 
Take us who faint beneath Thy rod, 

With bruised hearts and sore ; 
Better to close oar eyes, than see 
The want, the woe, the misery, 

That lie, alas! before!" 

And timid children shrink with fear. 
As the rude sound approacheth near — 

The sound of marching feet, 
And closer cling to parent hands, 
At the loud swell of martial bands, 

That echo through the street. 

A smothered wail — a bugle note. 
That mingling on the red air float — 

A banner torn and furled. 
Make up the last, sad, woeful clause 
In the brief story of a cause. 

To sudden ruin hurled. 



Part Second. 

Oh ! there were scenes of anguish. 
Ere that Sabbath sun went down ; 

Sounds of woe were heard in Richmond, 
When her gates were overthrown. 
April decked her hills with roses, 
Scattering odors fresh and sweet. 

But the tramp of battle horses. 
Crushed the dasies at her feet. 



KICHMOND. 45 

Aged eyes looked on the picture, 

With their fading light serene, 
But the hoariest head had never 

Bowed before a sadder scene, — 
Only yesterday unbending, 

In her fortitude and pride. 
With a Roman will she struggled 

'Gainst the foe so long defied. 

Now a pale and crownless mourner, 

All her glory overthrown — 
Weeping Rachel for her children, 

Sits disconsolate and lone. 
Aye ! disconsolate and lonely 

Is our widowed Queen to-night, 
As within her darkened chambers, 

Burn no flaming torches bright. 

She hath doffed her crown and scepter, 

With their jeweled splendor's glow, 
For the sackcloth and the ashes 

Of an immemorial woe. 
She had ventured all save honor — 

All upon a single die. 
And behold, to highest Heaven, 

Goes her agonizing cry ! 

Think you He will fail to hear it — 

He — the God of power and might. 
As upon His throne of Glory, 

Lo, He sitteth * 'judging right?" 



46 RICHMOKD. 

Clouds of darkness round about Him, 
Long may hide Him from our eyes, 

But, my Country! He will never 
Scorn thy bleeding sacrifice ! 

He will not forget the record 

Of thy suffering and thy wrong 
And although his vengeance tarries, 

'Twill, at last, be sure and strong, — 
It will follow where the ruins 

Of thy homesteads, fair and grand. 
Tell the dark and mournful story 

Of oppression's ruthless hand. 

It will note the low mounds rising, 

From thy bosom far and nigh. 
Pointing out the green turfed chambers, 

Where thy fallen heroes lie. 
Aye, thy fallen! — those who perished 

In a struggle most sublime. 
And whose glory is not measured 

By the fading light of time. 

Prominent among them, bearing 

Seals upon their foreheads bright. 
Are the brave who fell, oh Richmond! 

Thy beleaguered homes in sight. 
Those who shed their life blood freely. 

For thy safety and defence. 
And to whom thy love and blessing 

Were the highest recompense. 



BICHMOND. 47 

Oh, what e'er of all thy grandeur, 

Conquering power and vengeance craves. 
Unto thee, alone, remaineth. 

Still, the glory of thy graves ! 
None may rob thee of this guerdon ; 

'Tis a proud, though mournful prize, 
And it shines a glowing picture. 

To the world's admiring eyes. 

It will tell in song and story. 

Of a prowess sorely tried — 
How brave hands upheld the banner. 

Which their life-blood darkly dyed , 
How they rushed into the conflict. 

Full of faith in God and Right- 
How they fell, at last, undaunted, 

'Neath the crushing car of might. 

Walker with his calm soul waiting, 

And his feet already shod, 
"?or the ''forward" march, that led him 

To the bosom of his God, — 
Pegram with his bold eye kindled. 

And his proud lips red and warm 
With the kisses of his bride-wife. 

As he dared the battle-storm : 

Harrison" and Price and Allan^, — 

Noble trio, firm and true, 
Hallowell, McCaitce and Grattan^, 

Pollard, Nimmo, Dove and Crew, 



48 richmo:n'd. 

Lee and Wyatt — those who perished 
When the strife had but begun — 

And those brave lamented brothers, 
Nicholas and Robinsojt — 

Hardgroye, Johnston, Walthall, Ellet, 

Christian, Dabney, Tucker, Brown, 
Warwick (Brothers,) Tompkins, Mitchell, 

Strother, Green and Symington 
Waldrop, Wynne — alas! why need T 

Thus the mournful list prolong? 
None do need my humble tribute — 

Each will live in fame and song. 

Each will live, beloved and cherished— 

Honored, while the lips of time 
Tell the grand, enobling story 

Of a martyrdom sublime ; 
Live in memory's holy chamber. 

Sacred, guarded, undefiled, — 
Live, while lives one stricken mother, 

Still to mourn her noble child. 

Lift thy weeping eyes, oh Eichmond ! 

See them in their beauty glide? 
Crowns their blood-washed foreheads wearing, 

Sealed, redeemed and glorified. 
Safe from ills that vex us sorely, 

They have passed beneath the rod; 
Gilead's balm their death-wounds healing — 

Lo ! with Christ they live in God ! 



EICHMOND. 49 

Never more our life-paths blessing, 

Nevermore our griefs to share, 
Shall we feel their love's caressing, 

Or behold their faces fair ; 
Yet their pure and gentle spirits, 

Disenthralled, will hover still, 
O'er the ruined shrines and places. 

Which they once were wont to fill. 

In the solemn hush of twilight, 

We shall feel their presence near, 
When far in the distant heavens, 

One by one, the stars appear. 
We shall see them in our visions. 

Clothed in new celestial grace. 
When some holy dream at midnight 

Brings us back the buried face. 

When we seek the graves that hide them. 

In their chambers dark and deep; 
Smoothing with our hands the grasses 

Waving o'er their dreamless sleep. 
They will look upon and bless us, 

Smiling on our work of love, 
As they note the pious duty. 

From their sinless home above. 

This remains — a mission holy, 

None may venture to deny- 
E'er to shield, protect and honor 

Places where our fallen lie. 



50 EICHMOKD. 

E'er to guard from rude obtrusion 
The lone couches where they sleep ; 

Tenderly above their ashes, 

Loving watch and ward to keep. 

And when Spring returns in beauty, 

Life and light and joy to giye, 
To the hidden germs that slumber, 

And to aching hearts that live, — 
Bringing flowers, of vernal sweetness. 

O'er the narrow couch to spread, — 
Lilies pure and budding roses. 

Breathing incense o'er the dead. 

Thus thy martyred sons, Oh Richmond! 

Still may claim thy loving care. 
Though within thy darkened dwellings, 

Vacant all thtir places are, — 
Thus thou still may'st nobly honor 

Those who perished from thy side, 
Calling on thy name in accents, 

Low and tender ere they died. 

Aye, — and those who came as sta?igers, 

Falling in the deadly strife, — 
Names unknown and unrecorded. 

Save in God's own *'Book of Life;" 
Love them too — revere their ashes ; 

Guard from ruthless hand profane. 
Every spot whose soil is hallowed 

By a Southern martyr slain. 



KICEMOND. 51 

*' Storied urn," or lettered marble, 

Are not needed here to tell, 
That these pale unconscious sleepers 

Did their Spartan duty well : — 
Did their duty when they gathered 

Eound that Banner, folded now 
To the battle tempest baring 

Each a dauntless breast and brow. 

Did their duty, when they bore it 

Through the long and bloody strife — 
Aye, at last, to shield and save it. 

Yielding each a hero's life, — 
Did their duty, when in dying. 

Mingling with their parting prayer, 
Eose the wish that God would make it 

Still His highly favored care. 

Ended now is all the struggle — 

Lost the cause they died to save ; 
Folded is the war-worn banner, 

Crimsoned with the blood they gave. 
But not lost, and not forgotten. 

Shall they be — the true and tried, 
Who upheld it long and nobly. 

Through the battle's angry tide. 

Passed are they to shores supernal. 

Far beyond the rolling flood ; 
Sealed each martyr's brow immortal. 

With the sacrament of blood — 



52 RICHMOls^D. 

Grounded arms for crowns of glory ; 

Swords exchanged for Heavenly palms ; 
On their death-wounds Christ the Healer 

Pours the sweet Celestial Balms. 

Then why mourn them? — we who're blindly 

Groping in this nether dark — 
Vainly yearning, in our weakness, 

O'er our wrecked and ruined barque! 
Eather let our best thanksgiving 

Else to Him, who smote in love — 
Giving us the blow and anguish ; 

Them the peace and crown above. 

Oh Eichmond! though thy homesteads dear 

Once rang with joyous echoes clear 

Of laughter, song and mirth, 
Though now a brooding shadow lies 
About thy paths, and flowing eyes 
Surround each lonely hearth — 

God to be gracious still, will not 
Forget — nor on thy fallen lot, 

Cease to extend His smile, 
If but amid the dread alarm 
Alone on His sustaining arm 

Thou wilt but lean the while. 

Thy past — the crown that decked thy brow 
Is but a faded glory now. 
Its light no more we see. 



RICHMOND. 53 

Lost, lost thy sceptre in an hour — 
A blighted oak, a fallen tower 
Are emblems all of thee 

Thy forehead wears the mourner's wreath 
Of cypress, and thy burning breath 

Floats out in fevered sighs ; 
Thy goodly mansions, once so fair, 
Show vacant places here and there. 

And tears bedim thine eyes. 

Niobe of cities ! grief hath drunk 
Thy spirit up, and sorrow sunk 

Its arrows in thy heart ; 
To see thy bravest champions fall. 
To hear thy sufferers vainly call. 

Hath been thy destined part. 

Yet girt with Truth's immortal will, 
Great in thy desolation still. 

Fair in thy swift decay — 
Like Rome amid her ruins grand. 
Like Thebes a marvel through the land 

Thou sitt'st a Queen today. 

And unborn nations yet will own 

Thy sceptred rule, when years have flown 

And by thee, side by side. 
The great and good will stand to claim 
The honor due thy glorious name — 

Virginia's boast and pride! 



54 RICHMOis'D. 

War's blighting breath may still consume 
Our temples fair — our roses' bloom 

His ruthless hand may smite — 
But wrong shall not always assail — 
Immortal Truth must still prevail ; 

God ivill defend the Right! 



BATTLE OF MAiq^ASSAS. 55 



£ 



BATTLE OF MANASSAS 

(July 21, 1861.) 

LEAR rises now the glorious Sun 
]S"o cloud bedims the sky, 
As proudly from his eyrie, shines 
The Eagle's burning eye. 



And high above Manassas' plains 

His pinion soars today. 
Where North and South, dread foemen, meet 

In battle's fierce array. 

They meet, but not as brothers meet 

By distance parted long — 
They meet in bitterness of soul, 

In conflict, wild and strong. 

The one comes followed by ^Hhe ponq) 

And circumstmice of War,^^ 
Gay banners floating to the breeze. 

Rich ensigns from afar. 

The other stands with brow serene, 

Nor stoops to mark the spoil — 
Calm in the light of Truth he stands 

Upon his native soil. 



56 BATTLE OF MANASSAS. 

The one comes boasting in his might 
Of numbers great and strong — 

One impulse stirs the other's breast — 
The burning sense of wrong. 

And Beauty for the Northman spreads 

A banquet rich and rare, 
While Woman, in the Southron's home, 

Bows her meek soul in prayer. 

They meet, glad Nature's hymn is hushed, 

AVood, hill and field around 
Re-echo but the clash of steel, 

The cannon's deafening sound. 

Fierce grows the struggle, fiercer still 

Beneath the noonday light ; 
Upon our soil the red blood flows 

Oh God, defend the right. 



Swell high tlie piean, Southern hearts, aye swell it to the 

skies, 
To God, the God of Battles, let the glad Hosannas rise; 
His eye beheld the struggle, and His arm was near the 

while. 
And on our cause, our glorious cause, it pleaseth Him to 

smile. 

The fight is o'er, the day is won, the victory is ours. 
No more the cloud of Tyranny above us darkly lowers; 



BATTLE OF MAKASSES. 57 

The figlit is o'er, that dreadful fight, which Nature 

paused to see, 
And lo ! before ou7' conquerors, the Northmen swiftly 

flee. 

Their leaders backward haste their steps, confusion marks 
their line, 

Nor pause they now to taste the feast, or pledge the 
sparkling wine ; 

They heed not Beauty's stricken gaze of terror and dis- 
may. 

Nor e'en the booty which they thought would glorify the 
day. 

That day is ours, and now with honors bright and Glory 

" starred. 
We'll crown our gallant Johnso:n" and our noble Beau- 

EEGAKD, 

We'll crown them both with laurel wreaths from vernal 

Southern bowers 
We'll deck their brows with garlands fair, of gorgeous 

tropic flowers. 

And Smith, the gallant Kirby, aye the Blucher of the 

day, 
Shall duly share the homage which to heroes bold we pay : 
And wheresoever our glorious Flag, its Stars and Bars 

unfold. 
The names of Hamptoi^", Elzey, Jackso^n^, Stuart, will 

be told. 



58 BATTLE OF MAl^ASSES. 

Nor will the pen of record, which the hand of Fame 

employs, 
Forget the bold achievements of our own Virginia boys — 
Brave Latham with his Battery, exposed to shot and 

shell. 
While '* thick as hail" around him the vandal bullets 

fell. 

The daring, fearless Daj^iel, who received a miscreant 

ball, 
Our noble Major HAKRisoi^', among the first to fall; J 
And Alexander, firm and true, old Campbell's favored 

son — 
And many 7nore — whose names are linked with Glory and 

renown. 

The day is ours, alas! we pause, in tears we pause to tell, 
A wail was heard in Heaven when the gallant Bartow 

fell— 
The wail of fearless men-in-arms, by dauntless courage 

led, 
The wail of struggling Freedom for a noble champion 

dead. 

And lo ! among the fallen, in our bleeding ranks we see 

The noble forms of Radford, Irvij^e, Johjs^soj^, Fisher, 
Bee; 

Green wave the turf above them, honored be the mant- 
ling sod 

Which now hides the mortal caskets of the spirits gone 
to God. 



BATTLE OF HARASSES. 59 

A blessing to their memory, a tear upon their graves, 
Where shines the Southern Cross, and where the sweet 

Magnolia waves; 
We will tell it to our children, how they fought and how 

they died — 
With their swords unsheathed for victory, gleaming high 

above each side. 

Loud swell the grateful anthem, let it reach unto the 

skies, 
To God, the God of Battles, let the Alleluia rise ; 
And loud resound the echo glad, o'er mountain wild, and 

crag. 
The noble Eagle folds his wing above our Southern Flag. 

The fight is o'er, the day is won, the Sun sinks in the 

West, 
Past now the glorious Sabbath that was not a day of rest; 
Night shades the gory field, sweet Night with holy hush 

and calm — 
To Davis and his "rebel host" she gives the Victor's 

palm. 



% Major Harrison fell in the engagement of the 18th ultimo. 



e^ 



60 OUR FALLEN BRAVE. 



OUR FALLEN BRAVE. 



" I J II EV fell! — ill Freedom's cause they fell, 

I ^ 'I'ho Tioblo patriot band, 

^ And Freedom for their sakes, becomes 

A mourner through the Land. 
They rushed to Victory or Death, 

They struck for liberty. 
And Victory's tears now gild their swords — 

Our fallen and our free! 

They met the Tyrant's vassal-hordes ; 

No faltering hearts Avere there — 
Our Country's truth their battle-cry* 

Our Country's weal, their care. 
They marc^hed into the jaws of Death ; 

No wavering pulse they knew, 
And minions crouched before their blades. 

Our valiant and our true! 

They fought as patriots, fearless, bold. 

As patriots too they fell. 
And struggling nations yet to be 

Their daring deeds shall tell. 
Aye, nations yet unborn shall smile. 

To learn that Victory 
Embalmed with tears their shattered shields. 

Our faithful and our free! 



OUR TALLEN^ BRAVE. 01 

They sloop — no wail of sorrowing Lovo 

May broak thoir (loop roposc, 
Nor blast of bugle, fifo or drum 

Thoir dull cold car unclose. 
They sleep — they are not dead the while, 

Though funeral banners wave — 
They live in memory's holy place. 

Our beautiful, our l)ravo! 

They live in licarts that fondly prize, 

The proud immortal trust. 
And Fame's unfading chaplet crowns, 

Palo slumbercrs in the dust. 
Their story shall but nerve our arms, 

Thoir names our War-cry be, 
And Glory's star shall light their graves, 

Our fallen and our free. 

Jamcary 2'2nd, 1862. 



62 THE DEATH OF JACKSON. 




THE DEATH OF JACKSON. 

"RIGHTLY the moon o'er pallid corpses streaming, 
Mingled her soft rays with the cannon's breath, 
Where Southern braves their noble columns leading, 
Marched through the fearful avenues of Death — 
And where, with dauntless heart and hopes elate, 
Virginia's idol met a Hero's fate. 

Oh quiet stars! from your serene dominion. 
Look down in pity on our human woe, — 

Weep, weep with us, the great, strong arm is stricken. 
The form so dearly loved is prostrate now; 

And he who lately cheered his legions on, 

Must from the crimsoned field himself be borne. 

Winds of the night, waft hither balm and healing, 
Stop with your cooling breath the fevered tide : 

Comrades draw near, and through the shadows bear him, 
"Where gentle forms may gather to his side. 

Oh, God ! in mercy raise the drooping head 

And send Thine angels to attend his bed. 

Lo ! 'round that couch how many fond hopes hover, 
As day by day, the prostrate Chieftain lies 

Cheerful and calm, while thousand hearts are welling 
With tears that stain an anxious Nation's eyes. 

And he whose laurels, blood and carnage won. 

Breathes the meek Christian's prayer, "r% luill he clone.'''' 



THE DEATH OF JACKSOK. 63 

And shall we, Father, 'spite the proud example. 
Still strive to wrestle with Thy wise design, 

And on frail arms of flesh too sure relying 
Forget, in human aid, the Source divine? 

No, Thou wouldst teach us by thy mystic plan. 

That Man's best expectation is kot mai^. 

The hero's eye is dim, its fading vision 

Soars far beyond the narrow bounds of Time, 

He sees the eternal hills their palms uplifting. 
And all the glory of their light sublime. 

And he would "cross the river" Sin has made 

And "rest forever" in their grateful shade. 

Hark ! from his couch the sound of grief and wailing 
Go with the lightning's speed from shore to shore — 

His hour has come — the death-dews slowly gather — 
The Warrior's mission is forever o'er. 

Hope lingers still, and Love still clasps his head. 

But Love nor Hope may wake the unconscious dead. 

And thou couldst perish — thou whose lightest warning 
With terror filled the invader's trembling files 

Whose name was music to the countless thousands 
Who hung with fervor on thy word or smiles — 

Ah, wise monition! — who may now deny. 

How frail is life since such as thou couldst die. 

But what, though faltering lips the story telling. 

Link the dread "dust to dust" with thy dear name; 

What though a Nation's voice, in tones of wailing. 
From shore to shore the painful truth proclaim — 



64 THE DEATH OF JACKSON. 

What though the grave thy noble form shall hide, 
Will not thy dauntless spirit still abide? 

Yes, be thy requiem grand, the battle-chorus 

Of clashing bayonet and rolling drum. 
Meet that the gladdening shouts of victory swelling, 

Should waft thy great soul to its final home. 
What though no light relume that faded eye — 
Minions! he lives — the brave can never die. 

Immortal Jacksoi^, from thine ashes springing, 

The deathless form of Liberty shall rise. 
Blest with the baptism of thy blood all holy, 

To rear her gore-washed alter to the skies. 
And who that scorns the tyrant's yoke to wear, 
Will not delight to render homage there? 

Eest from the strife, brave spirit nobly yielded, 
To free thy Country from the Oppressor's curse; 

Hence through the lapse of years thy memory cherished. 
That Country's grateful heart shall proudly nurse. 

And all high thoughts that purest worth may claim. 

Will glow and kindle at thy glorous name. 

Martyr to Freedom, o'er thy grave now bending, 
A noble nation droops her mourning head, 

While Love with trembling hand the bright wreath 
twineth. 
Of Summer flowers to deck thy lowly bed. 

Wear now the fadeless crown so nobly won. 

Hear from the Master's lips, ''Servant of God, well done." 



THE CADETS AT KEW MARKET. 65 

Eest from the strife, aye, rest thee now forever, 
Where mortal footsteps shall no more invade ; 

Rest on the bosom of thy G-od, reposing 

Beneath the Heavenly Palm tree's mystic shade. 

Thy Country's heart thy mausoleum be, 

Oh fallen Champion of the brave and free! 



THE CADETS AT NEW MARKET.* 

g^ NWARD they come, they come! 
I'Mid the wild battle-hum 
I Fearfully chanted — 
^ Boys in their youthful prime, 
Flowers of a radiant clime, 
Veterans in soul sublime. 
Firm and undaunted. 

Rushing the die to throw. 
That the wide world may know 

AVho saved the Valley ; 
When, like an angry tide 
Up the broad mountain side. 
Swept the proud foeman's stride 

Fresh from the Rally. 

*To that brave band of young heroes, the Cadets of Virginia Mil- 
itary Institute, boysia years, patriots in their devotion to the South, 
and veterans in their soldierly skill and daring, these lines, commemor- 
ative of their gallant defense of the Valley of Virginia in the battle of 
New Market, on the 15th of May, 1864, are respectfully inscribed. 



Q^ TiffE CADiSTS AT KEW MARKET. 

Oh, the grand charge they made! 
Through the walled esplanade 

Armed to resist them ; 
Eeady with blood to buy 
Freedom and liberty, 
Ready to dare and die, 

God to assist them. 

Presh on each forehead fair. 
Sealed with a mother's prayer 

Fervently spoken, 
Hope's sunny trace and smooth 
Gleamed with the dew of youth. 
Types of the stainless truth 

Not to be broken. 

Right through the leaden storm 
Pressed every fair young form 

Mantled with glory; 
Never a heart dismayed. 
Never a faltering blade. 
Though with each step they made 

Their footprints gory. 

Woe to our startled foes ! 
As their young voices rose 

'Mid the fierce thunder; 
Armed with the shield of Right, 
Davids, in that stern fight. 
Coped with Goliath's might 

To the world's wonder. 



THE CADETS AT KEVV MARKET. 67 

Sadly through tears we tell 
How in their beauty fell 

The martyred seven-, 
Freed by the battle thrust, 
Eose their bright souls from dust, 
Bearing a nation's trust, 

Blood -sealed to Heaven. 

Shall we their deeds forget 
To whose sweet memories yet 

Proud tears we render? 
Lost to a world's renown, 
Ripe for a fadeless crown. 
Early their san went down 

In radiant splendor. 

High on the roll of fame 
Live every glorious name 

Through coming ages ; 
Let the bright record won 
By the proud duty done 
Shine through all time upon 

History's pages. 

Long live the V. M. L, 
Cradle of chivalry ! 

Fame's golden portal; 
AYhile the loud battle din 
Echoes our land within, 
Ne'er may she cease to win 

Glory immortal. 



68 THE GRAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. 




THE GRAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. 

EIIOLD! they sleep— 

Our own defenders bold, who lately stood 

Like brothers, side by side, where Southern blood 

Darkened Virginia's soil, a crimson flood. 



How still they lie ! 
They who were wont to leap like bounding deer 
At the shrill bugle's call or comrade's cheer — 
All quiet now, heeding no footstep near. 

Above each breast, 
The Spring-birds warble, Sammer breezes blow. 
And Winter's hoary frosts and mantling snow 
Fall softly, as to shield the dust below. 

Ah ! 'tis but dust. 
That with its kindred dust reposes here ; 
Ashes to ashes cleaving, Darkness drear 
Wedding the solemn Night, 'till stars appear. 

I know they live — 
The brave and beautiful whom we call dead. 
And Heaven's own Day-star brightest beams doth shed 
By the still waters where their steps are led. 



THE GKAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. 69 

To that fair Land, 
Where comes no blighting change, no dark decay, 
To dull the brightness of the spirits ray ; 
They walk anew the Christ-illumined Way. 

But do they see 
The burning tears that fall, the weary dearth 
Of smiles and joy where they were loved on earth— 
The vacant places all, at home and hearth? 

Are they aware 
That light went from us with their parting look. 
That solemn shadows veiled fair Nature's book. 
When Death our sunshine and their presence took? 

I call their names, 
But the winds only answer — they are still. 
While the memories sad, though sweet, my bosom fill. 
And spirit-tones respond, '''"Father^ thy will.'*^ 

Oh, then farewell! 
Ye for whom hearts have bled in anguish here ; 
On whose pure brows, all glorified appear 
That seal of sorrowing love, affection's tear. 

Farewell, farewell. 
Ye brave, lamented ones — the earth may quake. 
The stars go out in night, the mountains shake. 
But nought save God's own voice your sleep may break. 



70 THE GRAVES OF OUB HOME-HEROES. 

Rest, ye beloved! 
Here where in vernal beauty willows wave, 
And young birds sing and modest violets lave 
Their fragrant lips in dews that gem the grave. 

Sleep, calmly sleep! 
While War's dark, boding thunders round us roar, 
And battle-tempests lash and billows pour 
Their strength in vain against Death's tranquil shore. 

Rest, ye beloved ! 
There where by mortal cares no more opprest. 
Safe, safe forever on the Eternal breast. 
The good repose,''/Ae toeanj are at rest.'''* 

A while farewell ! 
Our parting must be brief; the same chill tide 
That bore ye brave and gentle from our side 
AVill bear us too — where tears no more divide. 

A little while. 
And past our vain regrets — our yearning's o'er. 
We too shall reach that calm, majestic shore 
Where ye abide, ^^ not lost, hut gone lefore.^'* 

March SI, 1S65. 



MT. AIUY. 71 



MT. AIRY.* 

Skpt. t)th, IHGO. 

TUKAI) oncG more thy stately balls, 
"iwOii wliosc worn paths and [)ictured walls, 
The golden sunlight brightly Tails, 

Mt. Airy. 

1 bear again the rural ehinie 

Of bird-notes in their wordless rhyme, 

Sweet echoes of the olden time, 

Mt. Airy. 

When bounding feet thy tbresliold prest. 
And merry song and sportive jest. 
Leaped from the lips of host and guest, 

Mt. Airy. 

When through the rosy mists of morn 
Was heard the huntsman's cheerful horn. 
As down thy slopes the chase was borne, 

Mt. Airy. 



*Mt. Airy, the jjrem of the Shenandoah Valley, is the princely estate of 
John (5. Meeni, Hs<i., of LynchhiUK, Va.. and in the olden times of peace 
an<l pros])erity was eelehrated Cor its hunting scenes, its j^ay social 
gatherin;j;s and its elegant hospitality. 

These lines eonimemorate the author's visit to Mt. Airy, after pain- 
ful chanKCS, and wlien Its "stately halls" no longer echoed the welcoined 
steps and cheerful voices of the "Long Ago," 



72 MT. AlKY. 

Wlioii Jit thy board, by Ploiity spread, 
Tlie sniootli, I'jiir brow and silvery head, 
Mot, each oii each, Love's light to shed, 

Mt. Airy. 

When gay forms moved thy scones among, 
And every heart and every tongue 
^Yith tuuoful mirth and huightor rung, 

]\rt. Airy. 

O'er those bright days fond memory casts 

Her pensive gaze, the raptured past, — 

''Too briqhl, too beautiful to last,'" 

l\It. Airy. 

Tjow sumnuM* voices, calm and clear. 
Still pour their music on my ear — 
Bird, broezo and stream, all, all arc here, 

Mt. Airy. 

And briglitly from their perfumed beds. 

As morn her olden glory sheds. 

The Uowers still lift their dowy heads, 

Mt. Airy. 

And still I hear in murmurs sweet, 

The sound that most 1 lovod to greet, — 

The river sighing at thy feet, 

Mt. Airy. 

r>ut over all relentless War 

Hath rolled his dark, funereal car, 

And lo, on all tlie gory scarl 

Mt. Airy. 



MT. AIltY. 73 

TFt^'o l);ililin«jj liosU UuMr buinuM' Hprcuid, — 
\\{^V{\ l('U(l(ii's I)<)1(1 their (M)linnn« 1(mI, 
And Ikm-c l)r:iv(^ licjirls (Jicir hlood lijiv(^ sIkmI, 

Ml.. Airy. 

Uoro Sfcotiowall JjK^kHon foujijlifc ami pniycd, 
Uoio Awhhy dri^w hirt |;iillaiil bladci, — 
And (Jilmor, knightly record made, 

Mt. Airy. 

More linudvinrid^e caTiie, lo niool, and foil 
'I'lio h:ird, reniorHulusH hand of Hpoil, — 
\Vh(ui ?n;i,ilyr-blood bodowod tliy Hoil, 

Ml. Airy. 

And li(M'(^ ])ravo Early \m dannil(^MH form 
Moved prondiy tliron^h Iho batlh^Htorni, 
'Mid doafoiiin^^ (duiers and grootlngs warm, 

Mi. Airy. 

TVovv oneo ajj^Jiin a pnaci^fnl Hun 
Shifios all thy <;lowing Hcenen upon, — 
Tho strugglo o'er, tlio canK<^ not won, 

Mt. Airy. 

And tlioy aro gone for wbom we wc^ep, 
Ah o'er her burial treasurcH de(^|), 
l<\)nd momorios holiest vigilH kei^j), 

Mt. Airy. 

TTark, tbrouf^h tliy mnrmurin^ l;itti(;e-vinoB, 
E'(Mi now a voic-e from "Sciven i'iruw," 
ItH HMjuiom with thy breeze eombirmH, 

Mt. Airy. 



74 MT. AIRY. 

And mingling with its dirgelike moan, 
A plaintive wail, — a dying groan, 
From Boonsboro's gory field is borne, 

Mt. Airy. 

These, — sad, responsive echoes meet. 

In every whispering zephyr sweet, 

That comes thine own wild hills to greet, 

Mt. Airy. 

For by swift disease laid low, 

The stalwart form and princely brow. 

On whom the grave mast gathereth now, 

Mt. Airy. 

He fell not as the others fell, 

'Mid the rude sound of shot and shell, — 

Yet^ nobly at Ms j^ost, as loell, 

Mt. Airy. 

Aye, nobly laid his brave heart down. 
Where grateful lips his worth might own. — 
Their tender praise his spirit's crown, 

Mt. Airy. 

They sleep, but not upon thy breast — 

The patriots' name their proud bequest, — 

Their slumber is the hero's rest, 

Mt. Airy. 

Soft mingling with the shadows low. 

That dim the sunset's amber glow. 

Come pictures of the long ago, 

Mt. Airy. 



MT. AIRY. 75 

Bright pictures of the bygone days 
At Eetrospection's tearful gaze, 
Float softly through the twilight haze, 

Mt. Airy. 

I see once more the matron kind. 

In whose pare heart and gentle mind; 

All lovely attributes combined, 

Mt. Airy. 

I watch again his fevered sleep. 

For whose dear memory, fond and deep, 

A sister's tenderness I keep, 

Mt. Airy. 

And she is here, that gifted one, 

On whose pale brow Heaven's glory shone. 

Whose crown of Life was early won, 

Mt. Airy. 

All, all are here — about me glide 
The loving forms, and near ray side 
The sealed brows of the glorified, 

Mt. Airy. 

All, all are here, and yet I weep, 

As tearful thoughts of those that sleep. 

Come ever with thy voices deep, 

Mt. Airy. 

The bird, the breeze, the stream and flower, 
Each move me with mysterious power. 
In this lone, musing, sunset hour, 

Mt. Airy. 



76 MT. AIRY. 

Yet from the gay and laughing throng, 
AVhose careless mirth and gleeful song, 
To present hopes and joys belong. 

Mt. Airy. 

I love to turn my ardent gaze 

And see through memory's distant haze 

The golden * 'light of other days." 

Mt. Airy. 

I love to hear mid echoes low, 

Of song-bird's note and river's flow, 

The voices of the long ago, 

Mt. Airy. 

And as the twilight shadows creep. 
My prayer goes up that God will keep 
Thy living oQcs, and those that sleep, 

Mt. Airy. 

That ever as the years roll on, 

To the eternal ages borne, 

His love may all thy circle crown, 

Mt. Airy. 



Marking the s^ot where stuakt fell. ^1 



MARKING THE SPOT WHERE STUART FELL 
NEAR RICHMOND. 

June 18th, 1888. 

NO gatheriug war cloud veils the skies of June, 
No startling sound of bugle or of drum 
Puts summer's harmonies all out of tune 
As marching lines with measured footsteps 
come. 
O'er all the landscape now sits gentle Peace 

Like brooding dove above her quiet nest 
Whea from the fowler's snare she hath release 
And fears no more the arrow for her breast. 
The hills and valleys smile in verdure bright ; 
The fields with nodding daisies blossom white, 
And Nature's pulse beats loyally and light 

As here we meet where memory's wave-tides swell 
To mark the spot where Stuart, the dauntless, fell. 



78 A VOICE FKOM THE GKOUND 




A VOICE FROM THE GROUND. 

Soldiers' Cemetery, Lynchburg, Va., May 9th, 1885. 

ORGET us not, us who are lying here 

Iq slumber deep and dismal, darkness drear, 
The while your busy footsteps onward pass 
Above us through the tangled, waving grass 
That hides us low; pause near the lonely spot, 
And in your joy of life forget us not. 

Forget us not who once were glad as you 
'Mid the bright sunshine and the glistening dew, 
Walking abroad, loving the teeming earth, 
With all its glow of beauty, sounds of mirth, 
Till, for your sakes, and with no slavish fear. 
We met the direful fate that laid us here. 
Forget us not — we do not ask to be 
Like haunting ghosts marring your human glee ; 
But as in Memory, holy things are kepu 
O'er which Affection's loyal tears are wept. 
So in your hearts' deep hidden shrines and dear 
We would be cherished who are sleeping here. 

Forget us not, as side by side we lie, 

Nor pass our lonely mounds unheeded by. 

For though our palsied, mouldering hands uphold 

No more our blood-stained Banner's tattered fold, 

Still through the ages while to us remain 

Your loving tears, we have not died in vain. 



SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 79 

Forget us not — but as the years roll by 
Bring the sweet otferings love would ne'er deny — 
The buds and blossoms of the joyous May — 
And on our lowly graves your tributes lay, 
And say to strangers and to children dear. — 
"These did their duty who are lying here." 



SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 

Corinth, Miss., April 30th, 1862. 



w 



E'VE left our own dear native hills 
In stranger lands to roam — 
We've parted ties that sweetly bind 
The soldier's heart to home. 
We bade adieu to Maryland 
The tyrant's heel was there, 
How could we see his torch profane 
Her glorious temples fair. 

Oh, Maryland, dear Maryland 
Though distant far we roam, 
Our hearts still warmly, warmly beat 
For kindred hearts at home. 

Ah— wonder not that Freedom's call 
We dared not hear in vain. 
Before us lay the panting South 
Behind the despot's chain. 



80 SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 

We gazed upon thy verdant liills 
Our childhood paths were there; 
God only saw the burning tears 
That sealed our parting prayer 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

God only knew the struggle wild 

That swept our bosoms o'er. 

As faded from our longing gaze 

Thy swift, receding shore. 

He only knew the burning thoughts 

That mocked us to the last, 

The cherished hopes discarded now 

Their joys forever past. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

Our childhood homes, — we saw them still 
Their clinging vines among — 
The sheltering roof-trees deepening shade 
That o'er the casement hung. 
And dear home-faces gathered all 
Where last they met our own ; 
The mute pale lips that paler grow 
AVithout our answering tone. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

There, there are faithful hearts and true 
That fondly for us yearn. 
And there are bright though tearful eyes 
That wait our quick return, 



SONS OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 81 

A sister's smile — a wife's embrace, 
A mother's voiceless prayer; 
The sinless kiss of infant lips 
Await, await us there. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

Then chide us not that loving ties 

Still urged their holy spell. 

As sweet Potomac's murmuring waves 

ISighed back our last farewell, 

And blame us not that thronging fast 

Came memories of Lang Syne, 

As o'er those placid waves we saw 

Our native skies decline. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

The darkness of that hour doth still 
Athwart our memory stray. 
And fondly yearns the loving heart 
For dear ones far away. 
And lonely is the exiles lot 
In sadness doomed to roam 
There never to his ear may come 
The voices of his home. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 

Yet well we know affection true 

Would still our pathway light — 

That love with prayer and blessing breathes 

Our absent names tonight, 



82 THE FOREST GRAYE. 

And so we ask no prouder fate 
Than by the South to stand 
Till Freedom's star shall guide us back 
Once more to Maryland. 

Oh, Maryland, etc. 



THE FOREST GRAVE.* 

Lynchburg, November 2nd, 1865. 

KNOW a spot — a lonely spot, 

Where Autumn winds are sighing. 
And where, upon the withered sod, 
The drifted leaves are lying. 
There, busy insects lately hummed 
And summer birds were singing. 
As through the air, the butterfly 
Its gladsome way was winging. 

The wild wood violet blossomed there. 

Its tender smile unheeded 
And clinging vines their shelter gave, — 

Alas! no longer needed. 
But now no joyous note is heard 

The solemn stillness breaking — 
Low, whispering winds a dirge instead 

Seem for the lost one making. 

*Iu a quiet, lonely forest churchyard, in thecounty of Bedford, is the 
grrave of Dr. John A. Nelson, a youna: and promising surgeon in the Con- 
federate army, who, after distinguished service iu the hospital and on the 
field, fell in a'volunteer charge at Raccoon's Ford, Culpeper county, on 
the 11th of October, 1SG3, in the 2Sth year of his age. 



THE FOREST GRAVE. 83 

He slumbers there for whom we wept 

With yearning hearts and broken, 
When in the dust we laid him down, 
Our tearless grief unspoken. 
All full of hope we sent him forth, — 

No joy had love denied him, 
But soon they brought him back to us, 

A broken sword beside him. 

'Twas hard to look upon his face, 

In its calm, marble beauty. 
And feel that resignation now 

Was but our simple duty. 
Alas ! with quivering lips and pale. 

We tell the mournful story, 
Of how he fought and bravely fell 

Upon the field of glory. 

But God knew best — for him we loved 

Remains no bitter token. 
The while we tread Life's altered paths 

With chastened hearts and broken. 
And we will mingle praise with prayer 

To Him who ever liveth. 
That after toil — sleep, blessed sleep. 

To His beloved He giveth. 



84 



"TRUST IN GOD," 

Elk Hill, Bedford, Va., 1863. 



\ 



c *WAS the Sabbath calm and holy and the balmy 
-^ airs of June 

Echoed back the Sky-lark's warble and the 
y King-dove's sadder tune; 

On the plains of old Virginia, where the 
brightest sunbeams play, 
And the flowers their sweetest odors yield, our gallant 

army lay; 
From their tents, their guns beside them, stepped tha 

soldiers one by one, 
Gazing idly in the distance, dreaming idly in the sun; 
Some were thinking of the future, some were musing of 

the past. 
Some were praying for the victory that must crown our 
hopes at last. 



The last letter of a brave and gallant Virginian— Charles D. Saunders, 
of Lynchburg — written to his mother, a few hours before his fall in 
battle, closed thus — 

"It is Sunday, but not the Sunday for having sweet communion with 
God, for hearing his gospel preached and going to Church withmy Afoi/ier, 
but one, when we have to be on the w^atch for a vandal foe, and ready to 
move at any moment. We left Culpeper Court House on Tuesday — but, 
I hear the booming of artillery and must prepare to move — trust in God. 

Rector's Cross Roads, 

Fauquier Co., V., 

June 21st, 1863." 



85 

Here and there a valiant lover leaned upon his gleaming 

sword, 
Thinking of his absent Mary and her tender parting word ; 
Would her welcome be as kindly, would her smile be as 

before, 
Should he live to hear her greet him when the bloody 

fight is o'er? 
Or if fate decreeded against him, and his dying couch 

must be 
Where the soil is wet and gory with the life-blood of the 

free; 
With no gentle form beside him, none his parting prayer 

to tell. 
Would she weep to hear the story, how he fought and 

fell? 
Laughing lips made merry music for the dreamers on 

the ground, 
For despite their sober musings, many a sportive jest 

went round. 
Groups of young and ardent faces made the glowing scene 

more fair. 
Kinging tones of gleeful voices filled the solemn Sabbath 

air. 
Now and then a folded letter with its tell-tale face was 

found. 
Here and there a thumb worn Bible open lay upon the 

ground. 
Soldiers on the bare sod seated pondered words of hope 

and cheer. 
One was at his table penning tender lines to **mother 

dear." 



86 

As he traced the loving sentence, ah, me thinks I see 

him now, 
Brightly shone the light of beauty and of youth upon 

his brow. 
And his dark eyes beamed with rapt are as his young heart 

leaped the while 
To behold in musing fancy still that mother's gentle 

smile. 
Pen in hand his fond thoughts wander to his distant 

home afar. 
Where in love's own chosen circle he had shone the 

brightest star; 
Memory stirred his heart a moment and he brushed away 

a tear, 
As the contrast was presented of the picture there and 

here. 
There where Sabbath bells were chiming and to hear the 

Gospel sweet. 
Sober age and happy childhood hurried on with eager 

feet; 
Here where flashing sabres glittering in the noontide 

fervid glow 
Told of stout hearts all undaunted waiting proudly for the 

foe. 
Hark, what sound is that which startles like the meteors 

flaming glare, 
'Tis the cannon's booming thunder rolling fiercely 

through the air; 
Lo! the vandal hosts approaching — see their blazoned 

emblems shine. 
Comrades up to death or victory — quickly form the battle 

line. 



87 

Such the watchword, such the warning, and behold in 

martial might, 
Stood unnumbered gallant Southron's ready waiting for 

the fight, 
Thousands led and legions followed through a pathway 

all untrod. 
And our hero to his letter added only *' trust in God." 
Quick as thought with ardor burning for the victory yet 

unwon. 
He too, stood beside his comrades with his battle-harness 

on; 
Bold and fearless as a Lion, stood he in his youthful 

pride, 
While the rolling columns pressing, gathered closer to 

his side. 
Many a brave heart fell before him, many a veteran worn 

and grey, 
Saw *'the last of earth," departing with the slow, declining 

day- 
Youthful forms o'f t fondly shielded from the rude wind's 

kissing breath. 
In the freshness of life's morning rushed to clanger and 

to death. 

One lay clasping sword and musket, while his heart's blood 

sheathed them both. 
And the ring upon his finger told a tale of plighted troth. 
He had met the conqueror calmly with his bright eyes 

turned above. 
And the last sweet name he murmured was the Mary's 

of his love. 



88 

Loud and louder grows the thunder of the Cannon's fear- 
ful roar, 
Nearer draw the fiery troopers close and closer than 

before ! 
Proudly swells the Southron's bosom as the foeman's steel 

gives way 
And despite his strength and numbers yields to valiant 

hearts the day, 
See a fair young form reclining on a comrade's shielding 

arm, 
Mind the hail of flying missels they are bearing him from 

harm! 
Who goes there? — but still they bear him toward the 

setting of the sun. 
And a dying couch is pillowed for that brave and gallant 

one. 

While the gaping wound is flowing with his life-blood's 

purple tide, 
He remembers those who loved him more than all the 

world beside. 
And he breathed each household name beloved, with 

blessing and with prayer, 
Asking God in pitying love to make them each and all 

His care. 
Gathering up his failing strength to say what must be 

quickly said 
As a friendly hand smoothed back his hair and raised his 

drooping head ; 
Ere his spirit passed the portal of its fading house of clay 
He a word of comfort whispered for the dear ones far 

away. 



^'TUtJST IK god/' 89 

** There's a letter still unfinished, (I must speak the mes- 
sage low,) 
"For my pulse is surely failng, and my hand is palsied 

now), 
**Tell my father and my mother that I love them both in 

death, 
*'Tell my sisters that I blessed them with my very latest 

breath ! 
**They will miss me, oh how sadly — they will think 'twas 

hard to die, 
**When the future held bright pictures for my young and 

eager eye, 
*'But a guiding Hand hath led me through the paths in 

which I trod 
"And I've tried in darkest moments to be still, and trust 

in God." 

Here the dying voice grew fainter, a listening ear bent low. 

But no sound, not e'en a whisper, broke the solemn still- 
ness now! 

He had passed the Vale of shadows leaning on the 
Savior's rod, 

And his soul in peace immortal stood before a smiling 
God. 

Comrades linger still a moment, stay your falling tears 
the while 

See how beautiful and lovely was his last sweet dying 
smile ! 

As ye stand again without him on the crimson carnage- 
field. 

Let the faith which made him victor be your buckler and 
your shield. 



90 '^TRUST Iiq- GOD." 

And ye stricken ones who held him as your dearest 

earthly joy, 
Who have yearned, how oft, to look upon your noble 

soldier-boy 
When his body pale and still, before your startled gaze 

appears, 
And ye struggle with an anguish that is too deep for 

tears ! 
When ye feel that now it matters not what cruel storm 

betide 
If but only death would come again and set you by his 

side! 
Think, oh think the while how meekly he bowed to the 

Father's rod, 
And in hours of darkest agony he still and trust in God. 

Catch the echo, oh my Country ! — on your stainless ban- 
ner bright, 
Be the dying soldier's words inscribed in characters of 

light! 
Let them tremble to behold them who would Heaven's 

own truth assail, 
In his blood marked path to vengeance let the tyrant read 

and quail; 
In the councils of the nation, — in her legislative halls, 
In the camp and on the gory field where honor sternly 

calls ; 
In peace, or war, or calm or storm, or passing beneath 

the rod. 
Be the Southron's spotless emblem Truth — his motto 

^'trust inGod." 



II^- MEMORIAM. , 91 



IN MEMORIAM. 

A L h. 

FORTH from his home with bounding step and 
bearing 
A manly heart 
He wandered — eager in the South 's great struggle 

To take his part. 
Eyes that had watched him when night shadows curtained 

His cradle bed 
Saw him depart with prayers and tearful blessings 

Upon his head. 
Fond eyes ! 'tis well ye might not scan the future 

ISTor mark the hour 
When War's foul breath should like a Simoom wither 

Your cherished flower, 
Like a proud deer which boldly stands defying 

The Huntsman's eyes, 
He stood, alas ! for merciless invaders 

A glorious prize. 
Deep in his heart with youthful ardor burning 

Glad dreams awoke 
Of love and fame as o'er him now ascended 

The battle-smoke. 
Brightly above his head in beauty floated 

The flag he loved. 
And proudly mid the hail of deadly missiles 

His young step moved ; 



92 IN" MEMOUIAM. 

Dark was the hour when 'iioalli that banner battling 

With shot and shell 
Like a tried hero in his noontide glory 

llo nobly fell. 
Hark! through the din and strife a voice prououncing 

His duty done, 
Lo! through the leaden storm they gently bear him 

At set of Sun. 
Urave lioarts are sad for him— comrades now gather 

His couch beside 
Wliilo from his fair young bosom darkly streameth 

4'he crimson tide. 
Tried friends in haste away ! — foemen are pressing 

His pillow near, 
Longer yo may not watch — angels will follow 

His couch to clieer, 
What though a prison wall rudely con line him 

Olicerless and dim, 
Locks may not bar the soul Jesus hath summoned 

To dwell with Him. 
Only a few short days of pain and anguisii 

Strengthened by prayer, 
A\\(\ the brave martyr-spirit strove and wrestled 

No longer (here. 
Kind, gentle at ranger hands wrcathcil with bright garlands, 

The pale sweet brow, 
When with a tearful blessing mutely spoken 

Tliey laid him low; 
Peace to that grave o'er whicli in pity resteth 

A stranger sod-- 
Peace to the bright young soul thus early sheltered 

With Christ in God. 



EK-AVANT. 



EN-AVANT. 

March 15th, 1862. 

0NWARD ye braves! — to glory on 
Nor sheathe your swords again 
Till baffled all the Tyrants' aim 
To bind us to his chain. 
UuNViird — o'er needful ills forget 
To murmur or repine 
While sits a vamlal foe beneath 
Our olive and our vine. 

Onward! — nor pause wliile woman weeps 

Beside her lonely hearth, 

And childhood's timid voice forgets 

Its own glad song of mirth, 

Onward ! — nor pause while cruel wrongs, 

Our dearest rights assail 

And cries of homeless wanderers 

Are borne on every gale. 

Strike, strike! — though life the fearful cost 

Of daring deeds must be, 

Better the martyr's hero-doom 

Than chains and slavery. 

Better the grave where Honor sleeps 

Low in its narrow bed, 

Tlian fetters grim and tyrants heel 

To rest on Freedom's head. 



94 THE MISSING FORM. 

Onward ! — though gory footprints mark 

Our own bright native soil, 

An age of blood demands an age 

Of high and holy toil. 

Think of the gentle hearts at home, 

Think of your grey-haired sires. 

Think of the babes that lisp your names 

Strike for your altar fires. 

Let not a faltering step be known 
Your serried ranks among — 
Let not a murmuring word be heard 
To fall from a single tongue. 
Onward to Victory or Death, — 
Raised be each fearless hand, — 
Lifted to Heaven each dauntless heart 
Strike I — for your native land. 



THE MISSING FORM * 

~^HERE was silence in the circle 

4^ Round the social Christmas board. 

And fond eyes with tear-drops glistened 
When the festal wine was poured 
Oh, what changes in a twelve -month 
And what sorrows in their train, — 
Hopes are dead and joys departed 
To return no more again. 

*In memory of Major C. C. Otey of Bedford, whose last visit to 
many of his friends was made during the Christmas holidays previous 
to his fall in the battle of Seven Pines. 



THE MISSING FORM. 95 

When around the cheerful hearthstone 

We have met in days of yore, 
There was with us one whose presence 

We shall greet — ah, never more, 
Never more save in that Aidenn 

Where beyond all storm and strife 
Dwells the soul in peace eternal 

'Neath the sheltering Tree of Life. 

Ah! 'twas hard that he should perish 

In his manhood's morning prime. 
With his dear name brightly written 

On the proudest page of Time, 
But we gave him to his country 

In her darkest hour of need 
And that country's praise and blessing 

"Was his glory and his meed. 

Fare thee well, oh, dear departed 

Through the future's coming years 
Fame will link thy name with story 

Love bedew thy grave with tears, 
Gentle eyes serene and tender 

Will look upward through the storm 
Calmly waiting for Death's angel 

To restore thy missing form. 

And when meets the social circle 
Round the cheerful Christmas board, 

We will breathe thy name in silence 
When the festal wine is poured. 



90 THE 2nd VIlUilNIA CAVALRY. 

Wo will say — 'twas for his Country 
That ho hiid liiin nobly down, 

Yielding earth and earthly laurels 
For the Victor's fadeless Crown. 



THE 2nd VIRGINIA CAVALRY. 

Hn rotitf to tlic defense of l.ynelibuiK, Col. T. T. Munfonl Commanding, 
Mureh 1st. 1805. 

011 ! A brave and gallant band are they 
With their dashing leader bold 
And their hearts are as ready to dare or die 
As the Uonian hearts of old. 
No need to whisper a word to them, 

Of courage when foes assail, — 
ril warrant you any who doubt — these men 
Know no such word as fail. 

They have breasted the storm on many a iield 

Their banner is torn you see, — 
And their ranks are broken, alas! but still 

They sing tlie song of the free 
'Tis comfort to know such hands uphold 

Our standard for weal or Woe, 
'Tis fearful to think with what cool affront 

To the jaws of Death they go. 



ON C5UA11D. 97 

God shicM them over we whisper low, 

As tears spring to our eyes, 
And we watch in terror tlie darkening storm 

That darkens our native skies. 
Bring each one back to the home he loves. 

To the hearts that cling to him, 
But our words are lost in the battle tramp 

And the sound of its echoes dim. 

Oh, a brave and gallant band are they — 

With their dashing leader bold — 
And their hearts are as ready to dare and die 

As the Roman hearts of old. 
No need to whisper a word to them 

Of courage when foes assail 
I'll warrant you any who doubt— these men 

Know no such word as fail. 



ON GUARD. 

OLDIER, pacing thy lone round, 

'Mid the Winter's cold and sleet, 
'Spite the snow that all the ground 
Covereth like a winding-sheet. 



What the thoughts that come and go 
As the night winds o'er thee sweep, 

Why these tears that over-flow 
Eyes that are not used to weep. 




98 DAVIS AND LEE AT IIICHMOND. 

Doth thy Spirit loth to wait 

Backwiird throiigli tho shadows roam; 

Eiitoring in through memory's gate 
At tlie open door of liome? 

KSoost thou there the tabk^ spread, — 
Cheerful faces round the board; 

Tottering age with hoary head, 
Loving eyes by thine adored? 

Seost thou her whose gentle hands 
Oft have smoothed tliy cradle bed, 

Shielding thee from rudo alarms. 
As they clasped thy infant head? 

Silver locks now shade that brow 
Still how beautiful and meek, 

And those faded lips e'en now 
Blessings for the absent speak. 

Oh, when sinful thoughts essay 
To allure thy steps, beware, 

Trembling accents far away 

Breathe for thee a mother's prayer. 



DAVIS AND LEE AT RICHMOND. 

MMORTAL pair! around whose brows 
Unfading laurels twine, 
And o'er whose love illumined path 
The stars of glory shine. 



DAVIS AND LEE AT RlCUMOi^"U. 

Fame's clarion breathes no prouder note 
^riian that wliich now proclaims, 

To all the world the light sublime 
That gilds your deathless names. 

Foes may despise and kings deny 

Your just deserving meeds — 
But unborn nations yet will praise 

The slpendor of your deeds. 

And unborn nations, yet will smile 
To learn the story grand. 

How 'gainst oppression's march ye led 
The Sou til's devoted baud. 

Brave leaders! — lo! a nation's eye 

Looks trustingly to you — 
A nation's heart for your success 

Beats yearningly and true. 

Long may you live to bless the land, 

That proudly calls you hers. 
And far, far distant be the day, 

When you shall claim her tears. 

Heaven's choicest blessings, pure and high 

Your onward steps attend, 
And may the (lod of Truth and Right 

Direct you to the end ; 

While e'er around, our Edens lurk. 
The foeman's gathering horde 

Yours be the hands to guard her gates 
And flash her flaming sword. 



100 FLOWEKS FOE A WOUNDED SOLDIER. 



FLOWERS FOR A WOUNDED SOLDIER. 



s 



0, GENTLE flowers! 

Go light the soldier's room, 
Go banish care and gloom, 
Go, with a voice of home 
Gladden his hours. 



Tell him of woods and fields, 
Tf 11 him of hearts and shields. 
Tell him that sadness yields. 
Kindly to you. 

Bear in your sunny smile 
Hopes that all cares beguile, 
Faith in All-Good, the while 
Fervent and true. 

Go in your beauty'drest, 
Types of the pure and blest ; 
Bear to the weary rest, 
Holy and calm. 

Soothe, soothe his bosom's smart. 
Gladness and joy impart; 
Breathe o'er the fevered heart 
Comfort and balm. 



COL. S. GIBBOKS, IOTH VIKGIKIA IKFAKTEY. 101 

Go in your summer bloom, 
Light up the soldier's room, 
Drive thence all care and gloom 
Brighten his hours. 

Cheer him with memory-gleams, — 
Pictures of woods and streams, 
Boy haunts and childhood dreams — 
Go, gentle flowers ! 

J' 
COL. S. GIBBONS, 10th VA. INFANTRY. 

•'Servant of God Well Done." 

FEW spirits wore a nobler veil of flesh 
And fewer forms concealed a purer soul 
Than his we mourn today. 
He lived and died 
Beloved of many hearts and while he led 
His brave heroic band against the foe, 
(Himself forgetting, in his care for them), 
Kind voices urged him oft to caution, as 
The danger thickened round him heedless all 
Their fond endeavors for his safety, when 
The refuge of his soul had early been 
The shadow of a Rock higher than they. 
Was it for him to choose his way of Death 
When in the mantling refuge of that Rock 
His spirit found repose and inward peace 
E'en in the battle tempest? 



10!i ' IBURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. 

Wonder not 
That when at last his duty here was done, 
He met the final conqueror with a smile 
Of peaceful triumph, as amid the hail 
Of speeding bullets and the fiery rain 
Of deadly missiles his brave soul went up 
To lay his death wounds at the feet of Christ 
Whose servant he had been. 




BURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. 

On the Burial at Home of I^ieut. Wm. L. Gogj^in, Jr., who died from 
disease after conspicuous gallantry in first Battle of Manassas. 

Lynchburg, September, 1861. 

EST, soldier rest! 
They who resigned thee at thy Country's call 
To meet her foe to guard her truth, or fall, 
Eeceived thee once again — 'twas but to lay^ 
Thy brave, young form, in manhood's strength away, 
In Earth's dark breast. 



Calm, fearless, bold 
Thy young brow shone amid the fierce array 
Of angry Battle on that glorious day. 
When Southern blood flowed in the Cause of Right 
And struggling Freedom loosed with conquering might 

The despot's hold. 



BURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. 103 

Lo ! thou didst stand 
Unscathed 'mid roar of cannon — clash of steel 
As fiery troopers through the columns wheel, 
And 'mid the flash of sabre — roll of gun, 
Firm and undaunted still, thou cheered'st on 
Thy brave young band. 

And though the slain 
Lay thick around thee at the close of day ; 
Though wounded, dead and dying strewed thy way. 
Thou stood'st unharmed, as o'er the mangled pile 
For our brave fallen, from thine eyes the while 

Tears poured like rain. 

Dear, noble boy ! 
Disease alas! too soon breathed o'er the form. 
Thus Angel guarded in the battle's storm. 
And we who loved thee watched thy pulses fail 
As came with stealthy step the Spectre pale 

To crush our joy. 

And from that home 
Whence thy young feet went forth long months ago, 
With eager step to meet the obtruding foe, 
Thou'rt borne today to lay thy brave young head 
Where strife and tumult to the unconscious dead 

No more may come. 

Here, calmly sleep! 
No martial sound shall pierce thy death-cold ear, 
No comrade's step or voice awake thee here. 
But Love will o'er thee shed her mournful tears. 
And musing Memory, through the coming years, 
Iler vigil keep. 



104 THE DEPARTURE OF OUR YOLUKTEEBf^^. 

Thou wilt lie down 
With her whose fair young cheek thine own hath press'd, 
As fond arms clasped you to the same fond breast, 
The gentle sister by whose loving side, 
Thou wandered'st oft in life's bright morning tide, 

Care then unknown. 

Rest, Soldier rest ! 
The din of War — the Battle cry is o'er. 
No startling reveille shall wake thee more, 
Nor blast of bugle thy dull ear unclose. 
Nor call to arms arouse thy deep repose. 
On Earth's calm breast. 

Thou hast put down 
Thy warrior-emblems — musket, sword and shield 
Thou'lt need again no more in camp or field, 
Immortal laurels deck thy youthful brow, 
And on thy brave young head. Heaven placeth now 

The Victor's crown. 

THE DEPARTURE OF OUR VOLUNTEERS. 

Lynchburg, May, 1861. 

E GO from the arms that have clasped you long, 
From hearts that beat warmest for you ; 
Ye are parting the tenderest ties that bind, — 
Oh, gallant ones and true. 



Y 



Aye, forth from the homes where your love hath made, 

Glad sunshine by day and night. 
Where fond smiles welcomed your coming steps. 

With affection's radiant light. 



THE DEPARTURE OP OUR VOLUN"TEERS. 105 

Perchance from the scenes of your infant years, 

Where Life's dim paths untried, 
Ye were wont to wander in fearless glee, 

}3y an angel mother's side. 

Perchance from the graves of your household Dead, 

Where in peaceful slumber lie, 
The little sisters who played with you 

In the joyous days gone by. 

From all that is tender, and true, and tried. 

In the hallowed ties of earth. 
From the joys unnumbered that daily spring 

In the soil of home and hearth. 

Ye go to meet the obtruding foe. 

Who dares to invade our Land, 
Ye go at Virginia's earnest call. 

Oh, brave and gallant band. 

And Virginia's daughters are sad for you. 

As, mute, by their firesides lone. 
Wives, mothers, and fair young children weep. 

For the missing footsteps gone. 

And dark are Virginia's mansions now. 

All silent the tones of mirth. 
As the sound of a parting step is heard. 

By each old familiar hearth. 

Aye, some to the battle field go forth. 

From a loving wife's embrace. 
And some will carry the picture fair 

Of an infant's smiling face. 



106 THE DEPARTURE OF OUR VOLUNTEERS. 

And some from the gentle, loving arms, 
Where their infant heads have lain, 

Will go to the scenes of strife — alas! 
To come not back again. 

But the God of Battles your refuge be; 

His arm is the surest shield, 
Aye, whether at home, or in Camp ye be, 

Or out on the bloody field. 

Go, then, in His name, go boldly forth. 
Though dark be the homes ye have left — 

Though desolate ever each household haunt. 
Of your cherished smiles beref c. 

And know ye as often as, side by side, 

In the battle ranks ye stand. 
That thousands of warm hearts beat for you. 

In our own fair Southern Land. 

And thousands of blessings attend your steps. 

As, prompt to Virginia's call, 
Ye go to vanquish her daring foe. 

Or else by her Flag to fall. 

Oft, oft, as the rays of the Southern Cross 

Illumine our skies at even. 
Will fond hearts offer for your defense. 

Sweet incense of prayer to Heaven. 

Go, then, in the name of God, go forth. 

Defend ye our Southern Land, 
And the smile of Heaven your guerdon be. 

Oh, brave and gallant band. 



SIDE BY SIDE. 107 




SIDE BY SIDE.* 

IDE by side in infant beauty, 

Lay they on their mother's breast, 
While her voice in prayerful murmurs 
Hushed them to their rosy rest. 
Side by side in happy childhood. 

Walked they in their boyhood's glee; 
Brows as fair and bright as morning, 
Spirits blithe and gay, and free. 

Side by side in youth they wandered. 

Where above the shining height. 
Through the tangled paths of Learning 

Fame's fair Temple rose in sight. 
In the classic Halls of Learning 

By the Streams of Knowledge wide. 
Where grave Wisdom held her councils, 

Strove they nobly, side by side. 

Later in life's happy morning. 

When the storm-clouds gathered dark ; 

Threatening winds and mad waves driving 
Round our Country's struggling Barque. 

*Capt. Robert D. and Lieut. William Early. 



108 SIDE BY SIDE. 

Foremost with the brave who ventured 

Out iipcn the angry tide, 
They too hurried proud and eager, 

All things daring, side by side. 

Oh! that some fair pitying Angel's 

Gentle face serene and mild, 
Might have shown amid the darkness, 

Calming all the tempest wild ; 
But alas! the winds blew louder; 

Muttering thunders darkly rolled. 
And the waves heaved high and higher, 

By no human will controlled. 

Still undaunted, bold and fearless, 

On they strove— a gallant pair; 
Till around their youthful temples 

Fame enwreathed her laurels fair. 
Lips unused to gentle accents. 

Spoke the praise so nobly won; 
Sterner Death too soon pronouncing 

All their patriot duty done. 

On the crimsoned field of Glory- 
On the soil they dared to save, 

Where the battle din was loudest 
Each hath found a Hero's grave. 

Each hath found, oh! stricken mother. 
Peaceful shores and waters still 

Where with Christ the sinless Martyr 
Blessed spirits roam at will. 



BURIAL OF THE SEVEi^ *' LY:NCHBU11GERS." 109 

Stay thy tears— though ne'er returning 

To their boyhood's home again, 
In yon House of many mansions 

Thou mayst clasp thy battle-shiin. 
In that Home — serene and happy 

Fate no more their paths divide 
Robed in white — their palms upholding 

They are walking side by side. 



BURIAL OF THE SEVEN "LYNCHBURGERS." 

'^yjH! GENTLY through your crowded streets 

rM In slow procession bear 

/ 7^1 The brave young forms that lately stood 
y 1 In pride and beauty there. 
A fearless band they nobly strove 

For freedom in the fight 
And glory-crowned laid down their lives 

For Justice, Truth and Right. 

Each brow a mark for vandal aim, 

Each bounding heart a prize; 
Well may a mourning Country weej) 

For such brave sacrifice. 



*The burial at home of the young "Lynchburgers," seven in number 
who fell in the Battle of Seven Pines. 



110 



And well may we deplore the storm 

Thus darkly o'er us cast 
When lo ! our fairest household flowers 

Are stricken by the blast. 

Tread softly, softly, ye who bear 

Those precious burdens all, 
For pure and holy are the tears 

That stain each funeral pall, 
Fond mothers, gentle sisters, weeji 

In sorrowing anguish here 
While love a fragrant chaplet brings 

To crown each youthful bier. 

And from their darkened homes behold 

As slow ye pass along, 
Sad tearful eyes look dimly out 

To meet this funeral throng, 
Fond eyes that waited absent steps 

Alas ! how long in vain. 
And now can only welcome back 

Their martyred battle slain. 

Receive, oh Grave, these precious forms 

A proud and sacred trust, 
Our Country's heart in sorrow bows 

Above their hallowed dust, 
And brightly wave, oh! summer flowers, 

In your sweet beauty drest 
Where dews of heaven will softly fall 

Above each patriot breast. 



DO THEY THINK OF ME AT HOME?" Ill 




DO THEY THINK OF ME AT HOME?' 

THEY think of me at home, 
Do they long to see me there ;- 
Is my name remembered still 
With a blessing and a prayer, 
Do they hide the struggling tear 
As they mark my vacant place, 
Yearning sadly, all the while, 
To behold my missing face? 

Do they think of me at morn 

^Yhen the red light crowns the hills, 
And the hunter's cheerful horn 

Through the lonely valley trills? 
Oh, 'twould be assurance sweet, 

While afar I'm doomed to roam. 
Just to know through good or ill 

That they think of me at home. 

Do they think of me at noon 
When the frugal board is spread. 

And all — all are gathered there 
Save the absent and the dead? 



A Camp Song— written for the 11th Regiment Virginia Volunteers. 



112 *'do tiiey thikk of me at home?" 

When the foaming cup is filled 
AVith the old wine — pure and free, 

As they drink to loved and lost 
Do they even think of me? 

Do they think of me at eve — 

When the twilight's sombre grey 
Throws a shadow dark and still 

O'er my vacant place alway? — 
When the Bible opened is 

By a weak and trembling hand, 
And the lighted candle burns 

Like a taper on the stand? 

Do they think of me and wish 

That I too could bow me there. 
When the gathered circle meets 

For the solemn evening prayer? 
When they ask of God to bless 

All that to that hearth belong — 
Do they say — '*and shield Thou one 

When the battle rageth strong?" 

When the low Amen is said 

And the night winds murmur by, 
Like the gentle soothing voice 

Of a spirit in reply, 
As they muse their musing thoughts 

By the hearth-fire's mellow light. 
Do they think of me afar 

From their sheltered fold tonight? 



GENERAL GARLAND. 113 

Oh ! when on the weary march 

In the Bivouac — or plain, 
Or when rushing to the front, 

'Mid the wounded and the slain; 
It would be assurance sweet 

Wheresoe'r I'm doomed to roam, 
Just to know all danger 'mid 

That they think of me at home. 



Jt' 



GENERAL GARLAND.* 

•"y~f]SrD thus thou comest back to us in thy young 
/t" glory crowned; 

/ /" The seal of Death upon thy brow in majesty 
-« *• profound. 

That brow on whose green laurels yet the blood-stain 

dark appears, 
And on whose calm sad beauty now rain down our 
funeral tears. 

Oh ever when the glad news came of victory proudly won, 
We knew whose daring, fearless hand the bravest deed 

had done. 
We knew whose gallant step had moved bravest among 

the brave, 
Where firm and bold bright forms stood up their native 

South to save. 

*The reception of his remains at Lynchbiirg, Virginia, 



114 GE^NTERAL GARLAI^D. 

We knew whose dauntless hero-heart one impulse only 

stirred; 
When Danger's threatening glance was seen and Duty's 

call was heard. 
And thus, our proud high hopes for thee, must perish 

and how soon — 
Thus we behold, thy bright sunset ere yet alas! 'tis noon. 

We saw thee girded for the light, — we looked with pride 

the while 
Upon thy bold eyes' kindling glance — thy young lips' 

glowing smile. 
We bade thee go where strongest arms 
And stoutest hearts are proved, 
We thought to see thee come again 
But oh! not thus beloved. 

Not with these mourning banners dark, this sad and weep- 
ing throng ; 

These funeral rites that to the dead the bay-crowned 
dead belong. 

We sent thee forth with glance of fire and music in thy 
tone, 

We thought to welcome thy return 

But oh! — not thus our own. 

Not with those proud lips mute and cold, that e'er were 
wont to thrill 

With fervid eloquence the hearts that owned their match- 
less skill. 



GENERAL GARLAND. 115 

Not with thy glad eye closed and dull, its light forever 

fled, 
While blood-stained chaplets darkly wreathe 
Thy brave, thy fallen head. 

Open thy bosom Mother Earth — thy peaceful arms, oh 

Grave ; 
Lo! to thy solemn charge we yield a proud and sacred 

trust. 
Our Country's praise, a mother's tears, 
Follow this sleeping dust. 

Rest gallant heart with her whose love made up life's 

dearest joy; 
Take to thy parent arms once more 
Thy fair-haired slumbering boy. 
Sleep, side by side, with those whom Heaven 
In pitying love removed. 
Ere yet the sad scenes of today 
Their gentle hearts had proved. 

Rest youthful warrior, sweetly rest. 

Where willows o'er thee wave; 

And where thy own home flowers shall breathe 

Sweet incense o'er thy grave. 
Light be the soil above thy breast. 
And green the mantling sod ; 
Peace to the slain, whose footsteps here 
Had learned to walk with God. 



116 CAPTAIIT D. A. RIKGO. 



W 



CAPTAIN D. A. RINGO.* 

ITH hand still holding high the sword 
Ho loved to wield so well, 
Upon the crimsoned field of Death 
He foremost, fighting, fell. 



Aye — forward in the path of blood 
When dangers threatened fast. 

His only shield the Christian's hope 
That cheered him to the last. 

His safe, sure buckler God's own word 

Of gracious promise gi^en 
Who fights the fight of Faith shall wear, 

The victor's crown in Heaven. 

Fighting for all that men hold dear. 

For justice, truth and right; 
He shrank not when the last dread foe 

Shadowed his fading sight. 

He shrank not when the storm grew dark 

And battle thunders roared. 
As swiftly o'er his youthful head 

The fiery tempest poured. 

Foremost fighting, fell. 



TO A WIDOWED FRIEN^D Iiq- THE NORTH. 117 

But calm in patient trust he stood 

With those who loved him well, 
And in his Country's brave defense 

He nobly fought and fell. 

An honored grave was made for him 

Beneath Virginia's skies, 
And there the child of Arkansas 

In peaceful slumber lies. 

Kind lips above that quiet spot 

Will oft the story tell. 
How in his Country's bleeding ranks 

He foremost, fighting, fell. 



TO A WIDOWED FRIEND IN THE NORTH. 

September 15th, 1861. 

OR]^ of one mother — her whose brow noble and 
fair to see 
Drooped and grew pallid beneath the shade 
Of the beautiful Eden Tree, 
Destined alike to the hopes that spring 
From the ties of mother and wife, — 

To the cares and toils that crowd aloncr 
The path of a common life. 
Oh, friend of my early years thy voice 

Through the gloom of this awful night 
Floats out to my ear like the piteous wail 
Of a spirit shut out from light 

*To a widowed friend in the North whose husband fell in battle in 
Virginia. 




118 TO A WIDOWED FRIEI^D IN" THE NORTH. 

And the prayer of my lieart goes up for tliee 

In this sorrowing liour. 
When words are vain to soothe the pang 

That o'er thy heart hath power. 
The dead — whatever the living feel 

Are sacred and the grave 
From hearts that throb and lips that burn 

No bitterness should have. 
Kesentment now is hushed and still, — 

I pray for thy soul's relief 
As I sit tonight on a far-oif shore 

With a thought of thy mighty grief. 
The paths we are treading are severed wide, 
!^_ Fate issued the stern decree 
And a Sea — cold, dark with boundless tide 

Is rolling twixt you and me. 
A sea whose billows as high as hills 

And rod as the setting sun, 
Top — foam — like a sullen charger bold 

AVhose race is not yet won. 
Sad, sad was the hour when war's black cloud 

Enveloped our Country's sky, — 
And fearful the moment when loudly rolled 

The peal of its thunders nigh, 
We heard the rush of the storm-bird's wing, 

The roar of the angry tide. 
And brave high hearts in the awful din 

Were beating our own beside ; 
We saw the black clouds gathering fast, 

The sea birds wildly Hying — 



TO A WIDOWED FIllEND IN TH H NOIlTll. 119 

The good sliip Htuggoriiii^ to aiul fro 

Tho torn pjiils idly lying. 
Wo saw it uU Jtnd oui- (dicu^ks grow p;ilo 

Witli tliG fcai'S our hoiirts (!iig;igiiig, 
And yet no powor had wci to (jiioll 

'Vhit mud Htorni liorcoly I'iiging. 
All, many a bartjiK; is out tonight 

On th(! mad B(!aa Hwolling foam, 
And many an oyo peers over tho main 

b'or ti»o glimmoring light of homo. 
But tho winds are high and tho ski(;H aro dark, 

And th(^ white! sails drift asunder 
While none may know of tho S(;attored wrecks 

Whioh tho mad waves bury under. 
There aro brows of beauty ami forms of strength, 

Young faces — how i)ure and fair. 
White arms enwrt^atluid with the sea weeds coil 

Uptossing in wild despair. 
There aro cri(!s of women and groans of men, 

Faint oelioos of fitful glee, — 
Sighs, sol)s and shrieks and over them all 

^rhe moan of tho angry Hon. 
How was it that you and I and those 

On whom life's hopes wore cast 
Wore launched thus out on an angry tide 

With tho mad waves lieavi ng fast? — 
How was it each sailed with a nation's liope 

All ard(Mit and firm and bold, 
While tho lightnings Hashed in tho sky above 

And the muttering thunders rolled. 



120 TO A WIDOWED FRIEND IX THE NOKTH. 

Ah — vain -we ask who the Helmsman was 

Who led us out in this dark, 
Or where the merciless breakers lie 

That threaten our noble Barque. 
God knows the secret — that is enough 

By whatever way is best, 
He will surely guide the believing soul 

To a Haven of peaceful rest. 
Enough that the sigh of a stricken heart 

Is borne on the surging tide, — 
That I hear from this dreary storm-lashed shore, 

Thy voice from the other side, 
I hear it in moans for the loved and lost, — 

I cast from my own sad soul 
All — all that would stifle its pity kind 

Or its sympathy's fond control. 
Since Death has divided the cold black sea, 

So now through the trackless brine, 
With a yearning tenderness deep and strong. 

My heart goes over to thine. 
It bears the friendship of "Aald Lang Syne" 

And a prayer to our Father above — 
That bruised and bleeding your own may find 

Repose in His boundless love. 
Dear friend of my early years — good bye 

Should the storm drive our life boats under. 
May we drift to that shore where no human tide 

The loves of the soul may sunder. 
Hark — listen! the storm is abroad and high, — 

Far out as the eye can see. 
Cold black and boundless the swelling tide 

That is rolling twixt you and me. 



FLOWERS FROM THE BATTLEFIELD — SHILOH. 121 



FLOWERS FROM THE BATTLEFIELD— SHILOH. 

Corinth, Miss., April 18th, 1862. 

YE GREW not in the pleasant woodland shades, 
Where laughing streamlets play and zephyrs mild 
Breathe their sweet odors, — where the soft still 
air 
Echoes the wild bird's note and the low chant 
Of babbling brook, whose sparkling mimic tide 
Leaps to the sunbeams as they brightly float 
Over its rippling bosom. Ye bloomed not 
In the sweet Cottage Garden, where anon 
The light of gentle eyes might smile on yours, — 
The soft and soothing touch of fair white hands 
Strengthen your fragile stems. Not yours the home 
Of the Exotic whose first faintest hue 
Is watched and welcomed with admiring gaze, 
Whose slightest breath is balm, and whose pure brows 
Are freshened nightly with renewing airs, 
A sterner fate was yours — to meet the light 
Where the dark soil is bruised by battle tramp, 
Where wrestling foemen met, and where the roar 
Of fierce artillery drowned the joyous notes 
Of nature's choristers — where human blood 
Mingled its crimson with the dews of Heaven. 
Ye were not cradled in secluded dells 
Or neath the sheltering crags of Alpine heights 
Nor yet in quiet glades. A prouder lot 
Was yours, oh ! voiceless flowers ! — to ope your eyes 



122 IM.OWKKS I'KOM TH H M ATTLKFI KM)- Sll I LOll . 

II poll tlio ^n-oinul wlioro rlsisliiny; iirinios moi 
And bauiiors wuvinl ami biirnishod siibros glouinod, 
Aiul proud forms ft)ii«;lit and f(41. Tlio vory (^irt.li 
Tluil gjivo you slri>UL;l,li {i\u\ bojiuty drjuiU tlio blood 
Of iniiny Ji boro lu»Hi-t niul youi- lirst «;'orins, 
WiM'o luirsiul siud uurtuivd by a u;iUou'a ujoro. 
Vov Ibis 1 Hjuldon us I moot, your siuib\ 
Miito witnossos of doatbl uu^thiuks I Inioo 
In its swoot fjiiliug lii:;lil. somo mjirtyr's fjioo 
Liftins^ its glance^ to mino— somo bbunlius; form 
Standing aguin botwiHMi tbo fot> and mo, 
A bulwark truo and warm. 1 boar again 
Tbo tramp of maroliing foot, tbo doafoning roar 
Of angry oannon and tbo battlo slu)ut 
Of b>gions arnuMl for cond)at. (^bi(b> mo not 
Tbat foarful tbougbts will como as muto 1 gazo 
Upon your glorius boauty. Dark iniloi>d 
Tbo story tbat. yo toll of gallant arms 
And dauutb^ss bosoms on tbo lic^ld o[ Doatb, 
Facing tbo fiory storm wbilo in lom^ bomos, 
Tjovod onos balf frantio witb alarms of War 
Wbisi>or witb batml broaib tboir nanios bolovoil, 
And oouplo tbom witb prayors as blttor tears 
WoU up from smotborod fountains in full boarts. 
1 do not lovo you loss tbat yo woro nursod 
In tbo rudo lap of War, but J would broatbo 
Over your fading boauty ono fond prayor — 
Tbat Ho wbo mid Dostruotion's awful storm 
Sboltorod your fragile germs, will likewise bold 
Our oborisbed bousobold blossoms in His oaro 
And from tbo battle-tompost lloroe and loud 
Protect and save tbom. 



lkk's nniuiDAY. 12;i 







LEE'S BIRTHDAY. 

N 1^] diiy in nil ihn diBttint pjist 
]nH[)iroH my ^rjitoful rliyrns, 
OiHi (Ijiy Hull li<;lil.s vviUi touch of g<>I«l 
'Vho cjiloiidiir of time. 



Thiit (liiy wlioBo c-oniiii;^^ lit tin*. WJiy 

Of darker days lo be, 
And <;}ivo to iiH ,*md to ilio world 

Our Uobort Mdw;M-d Luo. 

No pomp or licrjildic display 
Its glory tlicji procdjiioKid ; 

Not by tlio mouth of TroplHuty 
Was that day va'cv luujKid. 

it cauio arul wont a.s (;omo and go 
Full many brief, bright dayH, 

Yet milliouH hailing it now lift 
Their hearts to prayer ami pniiHe. 

The Christmas Festival had passed; 

And o'er the (iarth again 
WaH e(diocd forth th(5 meKsage M\V(U3t 

Of "peace, good will to men," 



VH LKK'B JUIiTIlDAY. 

When on Vir^nn'm, Quooii of Stiitos, 
Tho Tslew Year kindly sinilod, 

And to hor fond, nuiternul urnis 
AVas born jinoMuM- child. 

A boy who ^row in (somolinosa, 
And gnicoful siaturo grand, 

Until bis praiKo in ovcn-y montli 
AVas soundod Uirougli llm land. 

A oliild in wlioso blue veins tborc (lowed 

Tho blood of (-avaliors, 
And whom IloaNon destined to become 

roorloss anion*;- bis peers. 

To love oL* trnth and honor roared, 
To valor ])roudly trained; 

What wonder nil false WJiys he spurned, 
All doubtful ends disdained. 

Virginian to his <;reat heart's t!ore, 
Vii\i!;inian brave and truc^ 

What other course could mark his aim 
Than that he would [)ursue? 

When hurled the thuiulerbolts of War 

Above her stately head, 
And she, our ancient mother, stood 

]\lid lurid ligbtnings red; 



126 



Whou wounded jiiHtico ploiid in vain 

And right was all doniod, 
And dangers thiokoncd round lior, ho 

Sprang nobly to hor side. 

And wIkmi to ])attlo and to doath 
'Vhr. SouMTh hravi! h^giouH Hpnd, 

IJi.s liaiid uplK^ld hov banner, ho 
Jlor gaibint arrnios led. 

yea, more, when .siekneHa paralysed 
Ills vetcn-ans H(;arre(l and hoi-(^, 

And 1^'atnino, pale aiul hollow, .showed 
Her gaunt I'acje at his door; 

When troubled grew his Lion heart 
Kor those he loved ho well, 

And failure and disaster dark 
A nation's hopes belell; 

How did his soul from out the fires 

(*orn(5 I'orth iruruaeulate, 
While the Soi<lier in the (Jhristian 

liose abi)V(^ the storms oC fate. 

No prouder reeonl e'(!r wii,s mado, 
And high ap{)roving Heaven 

Ko grander claim to endless fame 
To mortal man has given. 



126 OUR GALLAKT J)EAD. 

Our cliildreTi shall proclaim it through 

The ages yet to be, 
That stainless was the escutcheon 

Of our immortal Lee. 

That side by side with Washington 

(No greater rebel) he 
Stands on the Roll of Honor in 

Our Country's history. 

God bless the day that gave him 

To Virginia as a son ; 
God bless the soil that made him 

Brother to Washington. 

God bless the lips that praise him, 
The eycs'that love to see 

The light of fame, that gilds the name 
Of Robert Edward Lee. 



r 



OUR GALLANT DEAD. 

WE MEET in this Place of Silence 
'Mid the glory and verdue of May, 
With her treasures of bud and of blossom, 
To honor Memorial Day. 
We come with renewed devotion, 

With tender and reverent tread, — 
To deck with the roses of summer, 
The graves of our patriot Dead. 



OUR GALLANT DEAD. 127 

Behold ! on the hillside and valleys 

Are mounds which their histories tell 
And the ploughshare is ruthlessly turning 

E'en now the red fields where they fell. 
Forget them? No, never while honor 

And truth and devotion shall shed 
The light of a halo immortal 

Round the brows of our patriot Dead. 

They sleep in the field and the forest, 

Tliey sleep on the mountain and plain, 
And no blast from war's clarion trumpet 

Shall wake them to battle again. 
They bore their proud part in the struggle — 

The world's meed of honor was won, 
*'True and tried" they now rest from the conflict. 

Their blood-canceled duty is done. 

They sleep — while how oft in the twilight 

We muse of the days that are past — 
The days when around our poor country 

The shield of their valor was cast, 
They sleep, while with eyes sad acd mournful 

And moistened by many a tear 
We talk of the past when beside us 

Their pale, martyred faces were near. 

Brave hearts ! hushed and still is your beating, — 

All past is your anguish and pain. 
While our own with most loyal devotion 

Still cling to our fallen and slain. 



128 OUR UALLANT DEAD. 

Ayo, cl'ni^ to ilio mouniriil roinenibraiice 

Of siiilorings horoioally borno, 
Tho march long and hard, tho short ration, 

Tho hiin«;or to Cod oidy known. 

Tho thirst, with no vviitcM- t' uilay it; 

'Plio HicknosH; tiio h)nging Tor homo, 
Tlio wihl and delirious calling 

l<\)r niotliors who nov(U' oould (H)ino; 
Tho piiinriil privations, th' ox[)osuro 

To hardships nono living may know; 
Tho rush to tho battlo-front, eager 

Life's all in tho struggle to throw. 

Tiie struggle — how grand and how glorions! 

What pen on the pages of Tinu^ 
May leave e'en the faintest impression 

Of all its devotion sublinio? 
TIh^ (iheerfnl snrrendtM- of (H>mfort, 

The patient enduraiuu) of pain, 
Tlu» (Hiurago no dangiM* could balUe, 

No human eyes witness again. 

Ah! mournful, indeed, is the story 

Of thosi^ whose dear lives paid the cost. 
Of this daunlless devotion to duty — 

This zeal in a cause that was lost. 
Some fell in tlu^ storm of the batth*; 

The son, side by side with the sire; 
Some died in tlu^ hospital dreary. 

And some by the bivouac fire. 



OUIt OAlJiANT DKAI). ]2<) 

Soino hui^uiHliod in priHon, far distant 

Krom Hynipiitliy, kiiulrod and frionds, 
Soino periKliod on picluit, and many, 

Ail! many, no Ivnowlod^o attonds. 
Those passcMl to tin; front with tlio others, 

And all tliat rofuains sin(;o to know 
Is tliat (Jod iiolds tiio soonit in lioaviMi 

Of how tlioy wore missing bcdow. 

I^'o/kI vy^-M wailed lon;jj for thtuj- comiiif^, 

And wait(Ml, alas, all in vain; 
No HinihsM will o'er grciot their returning. 

No fate will restore them again. 
Dead! how! ah, the secret unfathomed 

Wo only (;an patiently wait 
'i^ill th(!ir hoiiIh inoet oiir own, and united 

We walk throui^^li tlio HeaiitifiU (Jato. 

ll(!re all un(!.\i)lained is the mystery. 

We grope through a terrihle (hirk, 
r'aith l)lind(!d and dull struggh's wildly 

To kiridh^ Hope's languishing spark. 
'IMi(!r(! all will he clejir as the noondiiy. 

We'll know oven as we are known, 
1^'or a light, which no stortn can extinguish, 

Will o'er our dull visions he thrown. 

'IMic wrath of the War-king forgotten; 

l<'i-om hattle and strifri a surcusaso; 
The Holdi(!r, who died for his country, 

Will rcist on th(5 ho:-:om of I'eace. 



]30 OlIIl (lALLANT I) HAD. 

Tlw prlsonor, wlio pined in his dungeon, 
Wlioso liearl with dumb agony stirred, 

Will walk in the sunlight of Kreudoni, 
And no sound of oi)pression be heard. 

(Jod's love, like a pure, lighted candle, 

Will shine on the dark places hero. 
And what seemed the dreariest midnight 

Will dawn light the orient clear. 
Our great noblo army of martyrs, 

Secure of the crown and the palm, 
Will smile at their death-woumls and liiul them 

All healed by a Cross-purchased Balm. 

The army of martyrs— behold them — 

Our noblo, our valiant, our brave — 
The light from their glory-crowns falling 

Serene on each blood-sprinkled grave — 
Serene on the sods we have watered 

With many a heart-burning tear, 
And on which the daisies of summer 

Dare blossom but timidly here. 

They! they are the conquerors only; 

]<]arth\s victors no surety feel, 
4Mieir fume is a breath-broken bubble — 

These wear the true signet and goal. 
The living may boast of a ])ower 

Before which the heli)less must bow, 
But the only true crown of pure honor 

Must rest on a glorified brow. 



OUR GAUvANT DEAD 131 

Tho oarfcli oolioos hjkI notv.H of wailing — 

All liojivcM riiigH iiloiid with Ihi) Hong 
OC tluj ])rjivo, who through War's ])h)()<ly l('ni[K'Ht 

\V(ir(! 1(3(1 to tho jiihilant throTipr. 
W(! nioiii'n for a dcsolatti Soullihuid ; 

W(5 W(3(![) foi- the (liHt (»M her Im'ow; 
But 'tis only the liviM<r who UhA it — 

Tho (h*a(l ar(.^ tho coiHiucror.s now! 

Th(3y walk \n tho joy of a triumph 

Moro grund than tho gi'andoHt of linu;; 
Thc^y bank in the light of a rrononoo 

That (dothoH thc^rn in a glory Htihlimo. 
IFuHhod, thon, b(5 our wc^ak hmiontations — 

(j!od knovvH ovory t(!ar that \vv. shed, 
And whatovor His wisdoni takoH from us, 

It leaves us our (//arums dead. 

Ixj l(;avos us thcur m(;morios fragrant 

With deeds of a noble renown, 
Tho cross which thoy boro uncomplaining 

And laid down at last for tho crown. 
Tho fame of tho living may perish — 

Its lamp but uncertainly fed, 
IJut a halo immortal (^noirolos 

The brows of our iiatriot dead! 



132 THE soldier's DREAM. 



W 



THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. 

HILE o'er the bloody field night's shadows 
crept, 
A weary soldier on the green turf slept; 
One arm his gun still clasping in his rest, 
The other thrown across his brave young breast, 
AVith limbs worn down by all the toils of war, 
His spirit in his slumber wandered far. 

He had a dream, 'twas of his far oS home. 

To which all crowned with honors he had come : 
He felt his wife's embrace, his infant's kiss. 
And his soul revelled in the envied bliss, — 
For which he had so toiled and fought, and borne 
All the privations which his frame had worn. 

His favorite spaniel came his step to greet, 
And played and gamboled round his dust- worn feet; 
Each kind domestic smiled his voice to hear, 
And poured their gladdening welcomes in his ear, 
Shrub, tree, and flower, as they met his sight. 
Made him forget awhile his Country's fight. 

Sleep on, brave soldier! morn will come again 
And bring to thy glad heart distress and pain ; 
Thou'lt know that joys which now so real seem 
Are but the sweet delusions of a dream. 
And 'mid the angry cannon's deepening roar. 
Those voices of thy home thou'lt hear no more. 



TO A DISTINGUISHED POLITICIAi^-. 133 



TO A DISTINGUISHED POLITICIAN. 

In reply to the inquiry— "Did you favor a dissolution of the Union. 

HAD no wish to sec it fall 

Since Earth to me could boast 
I*' No prouder temple high and grand 
From near to farthest coast. 
The world could shovv^ no fane so fair 

In power or beauty as 
The one in which we worshiped first, 
The Union as it was. 

Bat when I saw one column bright 

Thrust from its place aside, — 
Virginia's ancient prowess mocked 

Her glorious strength defied, 
I said, then I will share her fate 

Whatever that fate may be ; — 
The storms that lash my mother's breast 

May sweep too, over me. 

And surely by the lips that framed 

My earliest thoughts to prayer, 
By all the heart holds dear on earth 

My duty was to her. 
Be what it may the destiny 

Life's errors have compiled — 
Heaven save me from the blighting curse 

That meets a thankless child. 
May 16, 1861. 



134 LINES. 



LINES 

On the Burial, in Virginia, of a young Mississippi Volunteer,* who fought 
in the Battle of Manassas. 

PAIR child of Mississippi ! peaceful be thy silent rest, 
On the green and quiet pillow, of Virginia's gen- 
tle breast ; 
She will guard thy sleej)ing ashes, she will love thy 
faded smile, 
She will chant the solemn requiem of her brave, young 
Soldier-child. 

Thou hast known the din of battle, thou didst mingle 

in the strife, 
When the Summer-Sabbath closed, alas! how many a 

hero-life ; 
Angels then did bear thee up, perchance that Woman 

might employ 
Her gentle eye to watch around the dying stranger-boy. 

Rest thee now immortal Spirit, on the bosom of thy God, — 
Rest thee here, all that can perish, 'neath the green, 
enfolding sod ; 



♦Private Robert Feemster, of Company F, (Noxubee Rifles,) 11th 
Regiment, Mississippi Volunteers, who died in the "Ladies' Hospital,'' 
Lynchburg, August 25th. 1861, in the 20th year of his age. 



135 

We will plant the summer roses, and the willow too shall 

wave, 
Where the dewy breath of morning sheds an incense o'er 

thy grave. 

For the mother who hath loved thee, for the sisters who 
were dear, 

We will plant the mourning Cypress and the sweet 
Spring- violets here, 

And throughout the coming future gentle eyes, serene 
and mild, 

Will bedew with tears the spot, where sleeps the Miss- 
issippi Child. 

Lynchburg^ August 27, 1861. 

ADDITIONAL WORDS TO "MARYLAND." 

RIDE of the noble Cheseapeake 

Maryland, sweet Maryland, 
What means the blush upon thy cheek? 
Maryland, sweet Maryland. 
Alas! with base, ignoble power. 
The Tyrant smites Columbia's flower. 
And o'er the clouds and darkness lower, 
Maryland sweet Maryland. 

Thy harp is on the willows hung, 

Maryland, sad Maryland; 
And Falsehood seeks to chain thy tongue, 

Maryland, sad Maryland; 




136 ADDITIONAL WORDS TO 

But Truth will yet tliy wrongs reveal, 
And human hearts that truth will seal, 
'Mid clang of arms and clash of steel. 
Maryland, sad Maryland. 

Thou wilt not own the Oppressor's might, 
Maryland, bold Maryland, 

Thou'lt spurn his hold and dare the right, 
Maryland, bold Maryland! 

What though awhile in base control, 

His triumph-car upon thee roll, 

He cannot manacle the soul, 

Maryland, bold Maryland. 

The blood of all thy martyred slain 
Maryland, brave Maryland, 
Shall surely not cry out in vain, 

Maryland, brave Maryland! 
Hark! from the Dungeon's loathsome wall. 
Thy noble sons in bondage call — 
Say, shall their smother'd cry be all? 
Maryland, brave Maryland. 

No, no, tliou'lt be no cowering shive, 
Maryland, proud Maryland, 

While beat for thee warm hearts and brave, 
Maryland, proud Maryland, 

Thou wilt not vandal trust afford, 

While thousands wait thy beckoning word. 

And Janifer can wield a sword, 

Maryland, proud Maryland. 



ADDITIONAL WORDS TO "MAUYLAND. '* 137 

Oh, lift again thy queenly brow, 

Maryland, bright Maryland, 
Though withered garlands crown thee now, 

Maryland, bright Maryland. 
That forehead fair so dimmed and scarred, 
Will yet shine bright and Glory-starred, 
To meet the conquering Beauregard, 

Maryland, bright Maryland. 

We will not say farewell to thee, 

Maryland, dear Maryland, 
A faithful mother thou wilt be, 

Maryland, dear Maryland, 
We only ask that hand in hand. 
With Old Virginia thou wilt stand. 
And spurn the invader's hireling band, 

Maryland, dear Maryland. 

Blessings upon thy noble head, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 
Thine altar-fires are not dead, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 
There is a God who rules the free. 
Who bursts the chains of tyranny. 
Whose arm will yet deliver thee, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

Elk Hill, Bedford, Fa., December, 180 1. 



138 TEAKS FOB THE FALLEN BKAVE. 



TEARS FOR THE FALLEN BRAVE. 



In memory of Lieut. Tayloe of Roanoke and Midshipman Hutter of 
Bedford County, Va., who fell by the hands of the enemy, while carrying 
the wounded prisoners from the ship Congress after the great naval en- 
gagement at Hampton Roads on the 8th of March, 1861, 



y ^E ARS for thy sons Virginia ! — from thine arms 
4\ The brave and beautiful have passed away, — 

The young and glad of heart whose opening dawn 

Gave surest promise of effulgent day; 
Low, bow thy queenly head 
Mother of heroes — heroes slumber here. 
Hallow with grateful tears their youthful bier, 
Weep for thy noble dead. 

Joy for their cause triumphant — not for them 

The galling chain and captive's cell to know ; 
Nor withered garlands of defeat and shame, 
Nor fall unheeded by a conquering foe. 
Glad shouts of victory, — 
Pasans of promise, wafted their parting breath. 
Oh, for an early grave if such proud death 
Waiteth the young and free ! 

Where is the pen of record — where the tongue 
Whose burning words like music on the tide 

Of unborn ages shall the story bear. 

How noble Hutter and brave Tayloe died. 



TEARS FOR THE FALLEi^ BRAVE. 139 

Alas, Virginia's tones 
Wailing and mournful as the night winds are, 
Breathing o'er faded flow'rets, pure and fair 
Tell of her murdered sons. 

How to her yearning bosom would she clasp 

Those fair young forms again, — how joy once more 
To mark their brave proud steps and in each ear 
Her words of mother prayer and praises pour : 

Vain, vain the wish, how vain. 
Cherished and lovely lives stern duty gave 
To Freedom's holy cause, the unyielding grave 
Bringeth not back again. 

Say ye the day was our's — ah, well I know 

How dearly-bought for us the Victor's palm, 
AVhen bright blood stained the wave and dying sighs 
Went up like fragrance mid the evening calm. 
Fearful the mighty cost 
To the torn hearts that yet survive the strife 
Only with broken hopes to look on life, — 
Mourning the loved and lost. 

Dauntless and brave young spirits, meet for you 

The immortal laurels which the deathless wear; 
Peace to your ashes, — Spring's bright robe of green 
Ne'er surely rested on a nobler pair; 
Soft, soft above each head 
Bloom the sweet summer flowers — green the sod 
Where loving eyes pour forth alone with God 
Tears for their martyred dead. 
March IGth, 1862. 



140 THE OLD CONFED. 




THE OLD CONFED. 

He is Bound to Come to the Lynchbitrg Reunion. 

AY, 'mother,' come an' mend my clo'es, 
An' fix 'em up quite brown; 
For the old Confeds is goin' ter meet 
Next montli in Lynchburg town; 
An' 1 wouldn't miss the frolic 

For a mighty lot o' tin; 
An' I'll work like any beaver 
Ter git my fodder in. 

"Just fetch my old gray suit up loft, 

Ef 'taint the style, who kyoors 
It's been my go-to-meetin' best 

These twelve or fifteen years. 
Thar's a grease sj^ot on that left knee, 

I reckon 'twill come out. 
An' then to hide this frazzled edge, 

Just turn the collar about ; 

*'An' fetch my red ban il ana, too. 

The one I used tor show 
The time I went a courtin' you 

Well, many a year ago. 
Just patch an' darn the biggest holes. 

For I am bound ter be 
In the Democratic fashion. 

Alone: with Allen G. 



THE OLD CONFED. 141 

*'An' bring me my old stove-pipe hat, 

The nap, I know, is gone ; 
But it'll do with a little piece 

Thar wliar the band is torn. 
Ah ! I can sniff the powder now. 

An' think I'm forty -nine, 
Like when 'Old Jube' dashed by an' yelled 

'Charge! Ev'ry man in line!' 

*'But 'mother,' 'taint the same as when 

Our hair all stood on ends. 
An' ev'ry gun- flash meant a death; 

Fer now the en'my's friends. 
An' 'mother,' I don't grieve ter see 

Them graves upon the hill; 
Fer braver boys ne'er faced the fire 

Tlian our own Jack and Will. 

"They was all we had; but they went, 
• Because 'twas riglit; an' when 
They fell smack on the en'my's line, 

They showed that they was men. 
Don't! I kiiow it's worse on you than me, 

But I can't see you cry: 
It gives a queer, uneasy feel 

Like pepper's in my eye. 

"An', say, just spruce your brown frock up. 

An' come along with me. 
Its long since you've had any rest. 

You need a little spree. 



142 WELCOME TO OUR COKFEDEEATE YETERAKS. 

Don't matter if the money's scarce, 

We've got enough to pay 
Fer your ride down — I got the cash 

Fer that last load o' hay. 

Don't matter ef my legs does shake, 

An' git a little bent ; 
They're good for twenty miles or so, 

An' then they wont be spent. 
The old Confeds is goin' fast, 

An' 'twont be many a year 
Till when they call the muster-roll, 

Thar won't one answer, 'Here!' " 



WORDS OF WELCOME TO OUR CONFEDERATE 
VETERANS. 



\ 



y HEY come — our heroes of the past, 
^ Proud veterans of today 

Virginia's brave and honored sons, 
.^ The men who wore the gray. 
From valleys fair and mountain slopes. 

From homes beside the sea. 

They gather here in social clan, 

The men who followed Lee. 

No battle signals darkly roll 

Their muttering thunders nigh — 

No war-cloud veils the glowing light 
That floods October's sky; 



WELCOME TO OUR COITEEDERATE YETERANS. 143 

But through our Land, our glorious Land, 

In music tones of Peace, 
A voice fromHeaven is heard, "Henceforth 

Let strife and tumult cease." 

And could that voice so often heard 

Along your battle lines, 
Erom Rappahannock's classic vale 

To gory Seven Pines, 
Break from the awful hush of Death 

And speak to you again, 
'T would answer from the shores of Peace, 

"Yea — even so, amen." 

What hand so cold, so recreant now 

As not to clasp today, 
With loyal pride your honest palms 

"\¥ho proudly wore the gray? 
From North and South, from East and West, 

From homes beyond the Sea, 
Fame's highest plaudits follow still 

The men who followed Lee. 

While gazing on your gallant forms 

So bowed by time and care. 
We call to mind the awful years 

That left their impress there. 
Your bronzed and furrowed faces tell 

The story, proud and grand. 
Of how through fiery paths of blood 

Ye fought for dear Southland. 



144 WELCOME TO OUU CONFEDERATE VETERANS. 

Tlioy toll of marclioa long luul hard. 

Through winter's snow and sleot, 
Of f over's blighting touch that camo 

With suTunior's forvid heat; 
They toll of battlos lost — or won 

Alas! at foarful cost, 
Of battered ranks, of prison walls. 

Of bravo hopes wholly lost. 

They toll of darkened, ruined homes, 

Of sickness, grief and (!are. 
Of all the thousand ills that wait 

On desolating AVar. 
Vet woven in that story's woof 

One golden lino we see, 
To mark how nobly strove with Fate 

The men who followed Lee. 

Aye, nobly have ye i)roved yourselves 

Worthy of trust alway, — 
AVorthy to conquer adverse fato, 

AVorthy to have worn the gray. 
And proudly now we c^lasp your hands 

In welcome warm and true, 
While sacred Truth and Honor smile 

Approvingly on you. 

No more the cannon's booming sound, 

No more the bugle's call; 
Flowers spring and bloom where tents wore spread, 

And Love encircleth all. 



WELCOME TO OUll CONFEDERATE VETERANS. 145 

The sword within its scabbard sleeps, 

The ploughshare turns the sod, 
While grateful nations bow to own 

'J'he sceptre of our God. 

Behold — around us tokens glad 

Of peace and plenty born. 
Our hills in verdant beauty clad. 

Our valleys thick with corn; 
God bless our Land, our native Land, 

And may her Future be 
Worthy the lofty faith that spurred 

The men who followed Lee. 

Worthy the blood so freely poured. 

Worthy the graves that lie 
Scattered on every hill and plain 

Beneath our Southern sky. 
Tears for the fallen brave! — whose sleep 

Unbroken still shall be. 
Till on each dull, cold ear shall break 

Heaven's call of reveille. 

Then as the nation's gather all 

Earth's crumbling thrones to see. 
And men are there who followed G rant 

And men who followed Lee, 
As the Great Judge awards to each 

His due — all Heaven will say 
"Amen! — none worthier wear the crowns 

Than they who wore the Gray." 



140 WELCOME TO OUR CONFEDERATE VETERANS. 

As swans their sweetest notes reserve 

For life's swift-closing hours, 
And sweetest perfumes softly breathe 

From hearts of fading flowers; 
So may your last days be your best 

And happiness alway, 
With Fortune's highest gifts, attend 

The men who wore the gray. 

May your remainin<^ years be crowned 

With blessings from above, 
Wliile on you wait in happy homes 

The ministries of love; 
Through all the battle storms of life, 

llow dark so o'er they bo, 
May ITcavcn defend, protect and shield 

The men who followed Lee. 

Brave heroes of a Cause that's lost! 

We bid you welcome now. 
And fain with fadeless laurels bright 

Would crown each veteran brow; 
While still we hold, with clasp of gold, 

Sweet memory's sacred ilowers, 
AVith Hope's fair garlands we would wreathe 

These glad "reunion" hours. 

Let wholesome pleasure here prevail, 

Let care be tlirust aside. 
And in our hearts, and at our Board 

Let genial mirth preside. 



THE UNVEILINd OF THE MONUMENT. 147 

Bounil by the tic wliich common wciil 

Or common woe impiirts, 
We bid you welcome to our liomcs, 

Thrice welcome to our hciuts. 



October Wi, 1888, 



THE UNVEILING OF THE MONUMENT. 

RcspcctluUy dedicated to "the tncii who followed Lee." 



WHAT mca 
Asseii 
From m 
Onei 



HAT means this throng, this countless throng, 
Assembled here today, 

north and south, and east and west, 
impulse to obey? 



What means this splendid pageantry — 
These marsluilled hosts that stand 

Like Stonewall Jackson's men of old 
In solid phalanx grand? 

'Tis not that bugle sound or drum 

To stirring conflict calls — 
Or that again on willing ears 

The battle summons falls. 

'Tis not that "pomp or circumstance" 

Of war in proud array 
Would move to strife the noble hearts 

That mingle here today. 



148 THIS INVKIIJNd oi' TIIK M()NUMEm\ 

No, no! lU^hold ji1k>m> us smilos 

(Joil's niiuhovv iiroli of lov(% 
And poiico, svvoot poaco, roigns o'or the Ijiiul, 

Liki» broodiiiL!: \vin«;- of dovo. 

Wo couK^ Miiit.(Ml nil, jind Iriio, 

Willi rovoront lunirlH (o pjiy 
Tho tributo of our loyiil lovo 

To ono who wore tlio gray. 

Wo conio to look with glowing prido 

Upon i>is stjituo grand, 
AVIio onoo again *Miolds Rioliniond," though 

]^y not onti wav(^ of hand. 

\\c conio old frionda to moot again, 

Old ooinrado faces aoo; 
Wo coiuo to clasp with loving grasp 
Tho niou wlio followed Loo. 

Hravo votoraiis! 'tis with uiinghMi thrill 

Of sympathy and i)rido 
Wo 800 you standing as of ohl 

Ijiutod — sido by sido. 

Pause, Hooting 'I'imo; ono moment pause, 

Nor shift tho scono too fast; 
Life's fondest nuM^tings soonest end, 

And this may be our hist. 



TIIM lINVKIIiIN(l OK 'IIIK MONIIMKNT. MO 

'JMio liiHfc until WO all kIiuII Htiiiid 

VVhoro Truth mul iii^^lit rrniHt bo 
Tlio only wiitchword thiit nuiy \vm\ 

M\) .lacknofi, Davin, lj(!(^. 

Vvvh\\ from tlio arlJHt'M (iliincl, lo! 

'i'liin HtatiK! KtaiidH jipprovod, 
And who would touch with carclcHH hand 

Or on it look uninovodV 

Krnl)odying in ondurin;^ l)i'on'/o 

Our nohlo Lcuidor dciJir- - 
'^riio rrum who diod without u foo, 

Wiio liv(Ml witliont a jxicr. 

JliH Hilcnt lipH, for oacdi and ii,ll, 

A mossago hoars, arul tru(! 
That ordy virtue;, honor, truth, 

And ooura^o may oiuluro. 

Th(!n ojxin wid(5 your lon^in^ <'y<^H, 

Nor \('X tlnur viHion fiul 
VVhiio .loiiuHtoii'H triiHly, honorod hand 

Shall ju-oudly lift tho voil. 

IHr.k'iiwwl, May ;^.V///, I '"<'■>( f. 



150 DUST TO DUST 



DUST TO DUST. 

Mercer of WllHiinishurj^, Va., nftor (UsliiiKrtnshcd service in the Con- 
iVdtTdtc Army— fell a victim to pneumonin on the 7th day of September, 

isur.. 

1^ TOT wlioro tli(^ battlo thundors darkly roared, 

I \^ And licM-y shafts of death their fury poured, 

I / I Upou the true aud hravo — but when at last 

1^1 The doadly strife was o'er — the struggle past 

And ye luid gathered to your altered homo 

Subdued aud (^hastened for the days to come, 

\'et grasping still the prouiise that alway 

Jr'trougth shall be given sullicient for one day; 

When all the ties of life that yet remain 

Schemed only stronger for the broken ehain 

Stern War had made, — lie laid him down and yo 

Unmindful of the awful mystery 

So close at hand dared still to pray 

That on his youthful head disease would lay 

Uiit soft and gentle touch — that years of joy 

With brightest hours crowned would bh^ss your boy 

Anil eheer his manhood who so long had worn 

The soldier's honored garb and bravely borne 

Privations in the camp, — and on the Held, 

Dangers from which God's arm alone can shield. 

Alas, fond parents, ye were blinded then 

And oidy knew your own frail weakness when 

After long niglits of anguish — days of pain 

(Which Ui'WY more to him can come again) 



A FA ST- J) AY HYMN. 151 

Yc watoliod tlio poacofiil stoppiiif^ of liia brc^alli 
And sjiw him f^ciilly fall iisloop in dosiUi ; 
''J^is past — tho silent room and vacant chair 
'\\)\l of a buried face serene and fair — 
A face that liaunts us whih) vv(! yet \va'/,i\\ 
The sweet sad memories that liaUow all 
Our thoughts of him. 

Oh it was luird to lay 
In its bright prime that manly form away 
Where pUsasant airs and suidight miiy not (;ome, 
Nor clieerful smiles — nor voietis of houKi; 
Yet needs ho not our poor caresses now 
Ue with the victor's wreath upon his brow 
And while we weep among tho pure and blest, 
His bravo young spirit finds eternal rcist, 
'i^hen stay your tears Cod has but claimed His own, 
J5e our's the faith to say, 'Thy will be done." 



A FAST-DAY MYMN, 

(Air— Kock of Aki'S.) 

SOD of Armies — strength of kings, 
Source whence every blessing springH, 
Whither, whither save to thee 
Shall a bleeding nation flee, 
Deign to make us, Lord, thy care. 
Hear a mourning country's prayer. 



152 A FAST-DAY HYMN. 

Cruel foes in armour rise 
To destroy our liberties, 
Foul invaders seeking spoil, 
Boldly desecrate our soil — 
Murderous bands our homes surround, 
Woe and wretchedness abound. 

Lo ! throughout our glorious land 
Peril broods on every hand. 
Battle storms in fury pour 
Blood where roses bloomed before, 
Craven minions stalk abroad 
Brandishing Destruction's sword. 

Father, hear the childrens' cry 
As the tempest howletli nigh, 
Cover the defenceless head. 
Light upon our darkness shed, 
Comfort give in Sorrow's hour. 
Smite the boasting tyrant's power. 

God of Armies, he our shield 

On the fearful carnage field. 

Let us strength from Thee receive. 

Victory to the valiant give — 

Dread Jehovah, shew thy might — 

Shame the wrong — defend the right. 

Elk inn, Bedford County, Virginia. 



LESFJIO. 153 



LESLIE. 



[n Memory of lycslie Moshy, of LyiichhurK, who diid suddenly at 
Wytheville, AtiKUst 30th, 18(5.'J. 



w 



IIY should ix teardrop stain tlio pago 
On which thy name I write — 
Why crowd pale shadows dim hetween 
Mitic eyes and memory's light? 
The past, the past — its buried years 

A holy influence shed, 
As from their sepulchres arise 
The pale forms of the dead. 

I think me of a boyish face 

So gentle and so fair, 
That Earth in vain might seek to mar 

] leaven's radiant impress there — 
I think me of the love that shone 

Around thy pathway bright. 
Thou child of many hopes and prayers 

Dear well-spring of delight—. 

And then I see the boy a man, 

To manhood's vigor grown — 
Yet wearing still the same glad smile 

To childhood — beauty known, 
And holding still thy boyish trust 

In goodness and in truth. 
The faith unfeigned which knows no mask, 

The guileless faith of youth — 



154 LESLIE. 

A soldier in a soldier's garb 

AVitli martial step of pride, 
The Hashing gnn and gleaming sword 

Thy yonthful form beside. 
Ah! fiercely Hashed thy beaming eye 

And proudly stirred thy heart, 
As Duty sternly called thee now 

From home and fri'^mds to part. 

The war-cry came — its sullen sound 

Smote many an anxious ear. 
But loving eyes ! ye must bo brave 

And quench the uprising tear — 
And clinging arms, ye must be firm 

And proudly yield the form, 
Oft fondly screened in other years 

From ruthless wind and storm. 

Thy mother's gaze — it followed close 

Where'er thy footstep turned, 
How could she quench the fearful thoughts 

Which deep within her burned? 
To stranger eyes thou stoodest forth 

A hero in the dawn 
Of fame's glad promise — she beheld 

Her tender, youngest born. 

Well may her tears and fond caress 

Thy parting step delay — 
For oh! thy freezing kiss stern Death! 

What power hath love to stay? 



LESLIE. 

TJic anguish of that solemn lionr 

No liunijin tongue may tell — 
Cay voices murmured fond adieus, 

She only looked farewell. 

And thou didst go where youthful blood 

Stained many a glittering shield, 
But not for tliee the dreamless sleep 

On gory battle-field. 
Thy duty done, the Angel pale 

Came at the midniglit hour, 
And snatched thoo hence, and bore thee whore 

Nor clouds nor storm may lower — 

Aye, snatched thee in thy glorious prime 

From discord and from strife. 
Ere cruel thorns had sprung beside 

The frail, sweet flowers of life; 
And bore thee to that radiant Land 

VVliere war and tumult cease — 
Where angels pure and souls redeemed, 

Wait round the Prince of Peace. 

Would'st know in that far realm of bliss, 

Tlie yearning love tliiit gave 
Fond hopes, alas! in giving thee 

To Silence and the Grave? 
There's darkness at tlie threabliold, v^honce 

Tliy bounding step hath gone, 
Ajid beside that hearth, now desolate. 

Sit mourners sad and lone. 



166 LESLIE. 

Ayo, inournors who, in (u^iuing years, 

Will think of thoo Jiiul loll 
How woiulrously in trials dark 

(^0(1 (looth !ill things W(»ll; 
How, throuL:,h tho mist of ''thin«;s unseen,' 

In (hy brifi^ht nianhooiVs grace 
II(» took tluH* from thoni, jind gave l)a(dv 

A fair, swoct, shroiuhMl face. 

Tlu^yMl talk of thoo at twilight hour, 

Wlion brooding sliadows glido, 
And musing thought brings back the dead 

And absent to our side-- 
Thoy'll toll of all thou wort to them, 

In other, happier years, 
TbiwMl gaze u[)on thy em})ty chair, 

And s])eak thy name with tears. 

1'lieyMl love the haunts by thee beloved, 

They'll pause where thou art not, 
They'll pass with softer step, beside 

Tliy vacant room and cot; 
Vet high above their plaintive wail, 

Heaveifs soothing tones shall swell — 
''Faithful is lie who calleth thee,'' 

Hright S})irit fare-thee-well ! 

/•;//• /////, iH'ilfonl (\)., Scplcmbvr tr^lh, ISGS, 



1)1' AND ONVVAIU). 



157 



IJl' AND (jNWAIn'U. 

T I i', Oil HliiK^^anl ! ii|) uiid onward, 
/ /^ I Soo Uui Hliinin;^^ f^'oal in viciW — 

i'-yi 'i1j()ii;^Hi \,\\() way bo <lark and Uioniy, 
\iLA. CliriHL halli siiiooUkmI ilio path Tor yoii. 
Up, nor shun hia footprintH holy, 
Up, nor pl((ad your viHioii dim, 
llo to bo your Btrongth propoHoH — 
Cast your fainting heart on Him. 

UpHiul onward !—aHl\ thy Makor 

What IfoM havo lUco h(!r(; purHiu; — 
TTj), for HOMO wcn-o rriado to idic^, 

(iod hath work for ail to do, 
Lo! llo i)oiMt(!tli to His vinoy;u-d, 

AhUk yon, Hhull it Htill dooiirK!? 
WlioM your hand rnigid, aid itH oulturo, 

Lift a tendril,- -train a vino. 

Up and onwai'd! dang(!r thr(;atonH, 

Foes in idle pathways lurk, — 
Up, behold the day is waning,— 

(jomoth night when none can work. 
lleark(!n, soul! delay no longer, — 

Duties, holiest duties (sail, — 
Moments lost are gone forever, 

Iloav(!n the reeord kcicps of ;iJI. 



158 THE EMPTY SLEEVE. 



THE EMPTY SLEEVE. 

(Inscribed to Her who will understand it.) 

I I E LEFT me at our Country's call, 
I Z I I bade him go and be 

I y^ I As true and dear a friend to her, 

II As he had been to me. 
I buckled on the burnished sword 

That proui31y graced his side — 
lie kissed away, the struggling tears 
I vainly strove to hide. 

^'Farewell,'' he said, *'His hard to go 

From home and you away — 
Yet well I know my own beloved. 

You would not have me stay." 
I only looked my soul's reply. 

For oh, I could not speak : 
God heard in Heaven the prayer 1 breathed, 

AVhen words were all too weak. 

Months passed in anxious loneliness, 

I felt a boding fear — 
No Summer in his absence came, 

'Twas Winter all the year. 
Meanwhile I heard of battles fought. 

And bloody victories won — 
His name was always proudly linked 

With brave deeds nobly done. 



THE EMPTY SLEEVE. 159 

At length one day a letter came, 

(Not in his own fair hand,) 
Which told of "losses" that befell, 

His little hero-band. 
"Twenty or more were killed, alas, 

And some were 'missing' — ho 
Was badly wounded in the arm, 

But not thought mortally." 

Again the months grew weary years — 

I struggled hard the while, 
To see beyond this fearful cloud, 

Hope's beaming sunlight smile; 
Until one day he came and said, 

"I must no longer grieve, 
He'd brought me back the same full heart. 

Though with an empty sleeve." 

I gazed upon his altered brow 

So noble yet so changed — 
He quickly asked if absence had 

My woman's heart estranged. 
Said he "if so, be frank to tell, 

I will at once relieve. 
Perhaps you would not fancy now, 

To wed an empty sleeve." 

I fondly warned him to take back 

His cruel words, and May, 
This very month was quickly named. 

To bring our wedding day. 



160 WAR PICTURES. 

He kissed me for the promise given, 
And said, "for this believe, 

I'm henceforth more than reconciled, 
To wear my empty sleeve." 



WAR PICTURES. 

The following pieces present striking pictures of scenes which will be 
recognized by too many of our farmers as true to incidents within their 
own experience in the late war. They present in a strong light that 
tender devotion also, of the ladies of the South, — which was not inferior 
in merit to the courage and endurance of her sonS: 



SAT in my door 
■711 And I counted before 

Ten plough-shares out in the field ; 
'Twas a beautiful sight 
And I thought with delight 
Of the harvest the season would yield. 

My lands were all fair, 

As I glanced at them there. 

My sweet little wife and I ; 

The house, too, was good. 
We had built in the wood, 

And the neat village church close by. 



WAR PICTUEES. 161 

As plenty as birds 

Were my flocks and my herds, 
All came to the sound of my call ; 

The fruit of my vines. 

Were as luscious as wines, 
And my oxen all fat in the stall. 

Then I turned me within 

To the noise and the din 
Of the nursery, pleasant and free — 

The children came out, 

With a bound and a shout, 
All happy, as happy could be. 

What more could I ask. 

Save God's help in the task. 
To apply to the service of Heaven, 

The cup running o'er, 

And the beautiful store. 
Which His merciful Goodness had given? 

AFTER THE "RAID." 

Not a blade to be seen, 

Not a vestige of green, 
In the fields lately covered with corn; 

Lo ! the orchard we love. 

And the garden above, 
Of their wealth and their beauty all shorn. 

What a terrible blight ! — 
All, the work of a night — 
And the work of a pitiless foe ! 



162 WAR PICTURES. 

Quick lie sprang unawares, 
From his close covert lairs, 
Fully bent on a mission of woe. 

It is hard, "entre-nous," 

To be rich as a Jew, 
Then as poor as the pitiful mouse, 

Tliat alone, in the church. 

Was left, all in the lurch. 
With no comfort save only a house. 

Harder still, jest aside. 

To be coolly denied 
E'en the right to dispense your own stores. 

Or to say yes or no 

To the vandals who go 
In and out through your bolt-broken doors. 

It is sad to behold, 

All around, proofs untold 
Of a wreck which the heart shrinks to see — 

It is grievous to look 

In the family book 
And then out on this new misery. 

But I will never despair 

Though my cupboard is bare 
And my fatlings all wrenched fi*om my claim, 

For my faith in the cause 

Is as strong as the laws 
And my trust in the Lord is the same. 



VIRGli^'IA! — A IIATTLB SONU ! ! 103 



VIRGINIA!— A BATTLE SONG!! 



\ 



c HE cloud is dark — tlio stonu is nigli, 
-f The foemans' step advances, 

Unshcath thy sword, — uplift thine arm. 
And dare his glittering lances. 



What though his numbers Legion be, 

His banners proud and gay, — 

God will defend the right and who 

His mighty arm may stay. 

Chorus — Up noble Queen, the brave, the free, 
Thou 'It bow thee to none other — 
God will thy shield and buckler be, 
Virginia, — oh, my mother. 

Thy heart is bowed, thy cheek is pale. 

Thy tears thou canst not smother; 
I know the dart that pierced thy heart, 

My own, my gentle mother. 
Those whom thou trusted, did betray. 

And mocked thy censure mild, — 
*'How sharper than a Serpent's tooth, 

To have a thankless child." 
Up noble Queen, etc. 

There are, whose life derived from thee. 
The brave, the fondly cherished, — 

Who for thy welfare and thy weal 
Have dared to do, — and perished. 



164 Virginia! — a battle soxg! ! 

There are, whom thou hast nurtured long, 
From whom thou'rt loth to part, 

Whose hands now turn to aim the blow, 
The death-blow at thy heart. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

And shall we see thy glory fade, 

Thy splendor soon departed, — 
Shall tyrants smite and vassals rule 

Thy children, broken-hearted? 
No, no, we'll seize the burnished blade 

That seeks thy royal life, — 
We'll up and arm us for the fray. 

We'll conquer in the strife. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

Yes, yes, thy faithful sons will still 

Thy truth and honor cherish, — 
We'll guard the soil that gave us birth. 

Drive back the foe, or perish. 
True to the sacred trust we hold 

Our Father's memory, — 
Come weal or woe, or life, or death. 

We will be true to thee. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

Home of my heart, — may Heaven withhold 

The hand that for another 
Would darkly seek to lay thee low. 

My mother, oh! my mother; 



VIRGIN"IA ! — A BATTLE SON^G ! ! 165 

Here on thy soil — thy, hallowed soil, 

My earliest steps were led, — 
Here passed my childhood and my youth, 

And here repose my dead. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

Deign righteous Heaven to bless for aye 

The homage that I render, — 
Uphold her now, for whom my prayers, 

My life, my all, I tender. 
Oh, save from spoil her homes and hearths. 

Her rivers and her rills, — 
Her mountains old, her valleys fair. 

Her forests and her hills. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

Home of my heart, dear native State, 

Thy Star, how brightly burning! 
Still homeward lures the wandering steps 

Of wayward feet returning. 
I would that every alien eye 

Might yet invoke its beams, 
Till penitential tears would swell 

Our meadows and our streams. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

I would that all who bear thy name 

Might faithful be forever, 
Nor time, nor place, nor circumstance. 

Thy common household sever. 



166 HOPE AKD WAIT. 

That one united, all might stand, 

Nor tyrants dare to part; 
Brothers in fealty and in name, 

Aye, doubly so in heart. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 

Hark, hark,— o'er mountain, vale and glen, 

The distant thunders rattle, — 
The foe, the foe, is at our door. 

Up brothers, to the battle. 
He comes, — above our native hills. 

His flaunting banners wave, — 
Up brothers, to a Victor's palm, 

Or to a Freeman's grave. 

Up noble Queen, etc. 
Lyncliburg^ March, 1862, 



HOPE AND WAIT. 

OU'DST thou learn the mighty secret 
How to conquer adverse fate. 
Close thy heart to weak repining — 
*'Hope and wait." 
Let no cloud thy sunshine borrow ; 
Should thy plans all fail today, 
Sift them well and when deficient 
Try again some other way. 



w 



JEHOVAH-NISSI. 167 



Ever in the great Life-struggle 
They are victors most sublime, 

Who despite the downward current 
Upward climb ; 

Upward reach their eager fingers 
E'en when mocked by driving tide, 

Still reach higher, holding firmer 
Till the winds and waves subside. 

God will bless the hero spirit 

Struggling with its will and might, 
'Gainst the wrong in earnest battling 

For the Right. 
Only keep your soul's eye upward. 
Wrestle bravely — smile at fate, — 
And to win the victor's guerdon. 
Hope and wait. 



JEHOVAH-nissi. 

A Battle Hymn. 

JEHOVAH nissi — need I fear 
Though angry hosts assail? 
'The Lord my banner' — how shall aught 
Against me quite prevail ! 
What though the foe in fury come — 

My homestead to invade, 
Dauntless I'll meet his threatening wrath. 
Nor shrink before his blade. 

For Thou, oh Lord, whose kindly eye 

Doth mark the sparrow's fall, 
Wilt not despise my humble faith 

Or slight my earnest call. 



168 JEHOVAH-NISSI. 

Beneath the banner of Thy truth 
I'll march to Glory's field — 

Faith in Thy name my buckler sure, 
Trust in Thine arm my shield. 

There when the battle rageth strong 

And cannon loudest roar, 
As mangled corpses strew the ground 

All wet with human gore, 
I will not fear what man may do 

If Thou, oh Lord, befriend, 
For they alone true refuge find 

Who on Thy love depend. 

E'en should I fall — my duty done. 

Upon the gory field. 
Faith in Thy righteous goodness still 

Shall gild my shattered shield. 
And in Thy hands I'll meekly trust 

The dear ones left behind. 
Assured that each will in Thy love 

A sure protection find. 

Thus Lord for life or death behold 

I trusting wait on Thee, 
Eeceive my prayer and let mine eyes 

Thy great salvation see, 
'Mid war and carnage, blood and strife, 

'Mid Desolation's wail, 
JehoYsih-nissi — how shall aught 

Against me quite prevail. 

Elh Hill, Bedford County, Virginia. 



PAST AKD GOKE. 169 



PAST AND GONE. 

'"TTYE, — they are past and gone; — those weary years 
rri That like a ruthless ploughshare rudely driven, 

/^j Have left their deep drawn furrows dark with 
y ^1 blight. 

What seed shall spring therefrom, God knoweth, — I 
Am quite content to leave results to Him. 
All seeds require moisture and I know 
Those planted lately in the fruitful soil 
Of our great Garden Politic, have plenty of it, — 
That is if human gore may best supply 
The needful nutriment; enough was shed. 
Heaven knows, to fructify the very smallest germ, 
Nothing is lost in God's economy. 

This thought should comfort us who have lost all, 

I am no friend of War, and never was ; 

I better love the gentle ways of Peace, 

And yet this peace is not to be desired. 

Ah — will the skies ever be bright again? — 

I ask the question as a little child 

Would ask its mother from a fevered bed, 

''Will it be always night?" 

And while I pause 

An answer comes straight from the lips of God : 

''Be strong in faith; all things shall work for good" 

And lo; I hush my heart's vain questioning. 

And straightway cling to the All Father's hand. 



170 YIEGINIA'S CHAMPIOIT. 

Assured that to the trusting patient soul 

There shall arise, in His own chosen time, 

Light in the darkness. With this starlit ray 

Piercing the midnight cloud of memory 

I weave a chaplet for the dead Past's brow, 

And rise with freshened hopes and strengthened will 

To meet the untried future God befriend; 

And bring us all to Heavenly peace at last. 

VIRGINIA'S CHAMPION. 



General Fitzhugh Lee— His Welcome from the Ladies of Lynchburg 
October 15th, 1885. 




PLIFT once more thy queenly head 
Proud mother of a knightly race, 
And to thy day-star's dawning light 
Turn thy expectant face ! 



He comes — the gallant champion bold 
With fearless hand thy Flag to hold, — 
With heart as true as hearts of old. 

He comes with stainless record fair 
The Standard of thy Truth to bear— 
Thy triumphs and thy griefs to share. 

Let all the world behold and see 

The guardian of thy liberty — 

Whose proud and peerless name is — Lee. 



vibgii^ia's champion. 171 

He comes — thy own — thy loyal son, 
Blood-linked to that immortal One 
Who sleeps today at Lexington. 

Smile Autumn skies above his head! — 
Be Autumn's bounty richly spread 
Around him as to victory led. 

Awaj with wrong, and guilt and chain 
Away — the sordid grasp for gain, — 
Let Right and Peace and Plenty reign. 

And on thy shield as when of yore 
Through paths of fire our Fathers bore 
It dripping with their own heart's gore, 

Let tyrants gaze and gazing heed 
Thy motto's meaning as they read, 
*'Sic Semper" — woeful curse indeed! 

Free as the breeze upon our hills. 

Glad as the music of our rills. 

The WELCOME that our bosom thrills 

May Fortune on our Leader smile 

And pleasure speed his hours, — 
As we with loyal hands would strew 

His onward path with flowers. 

Virginia's eye is on him fixed, 

Her guardian yet to be, — 
While fame's eternal light surrounds 

The deathless name of Lee. 



172 THE OLD COKFED. 



THE OLD CONFED. 

Returned from the Reunion 

rAK off on a Blue Ridge mountain slope 
Where the tallest pine trees grow, 
Is a rude log hut that is sometimes hid 
From sight by the drifted snow. 
'Twas built long since by an old Confed 
Who has lived there many a day, 
And who to its humble shelter rude 
Was wending his homeward way. 

The pine knot blazed on the glowing hearth, 

The watch dog set up a roar 
As the old man reached the top of the Ridge 

And opened his cabin door. 
He was weary and worn, and fainfc withal. 

But the good wife gave him cheer, 
And soon he began in his garrulous way 

To rehearse the '"Reunion" to her. 

I've been to the great reunion wife 

And a good time had we all, — 
One thousan' strong, — ah, I've seen the day 

When a crowd like that looked small. 
The boys war in fustrate trim an' then. 

It minded me of the waw 
Cep'n thar worn't no fite'n done 
But more ete'n than uver you saw. 



THE OLD CONFED. 173 

*'The tables wuz long an' well loded down 

With ev'ry thing good to ete, 
An' the bran new cloths an' passly green 

Made the dishes look so nete. 
You'd only to chuse beef, mutton or pork 

Or ole ham, hansu'ly disht, — 
Roas' pig, roas' veal, slice' tung, or even 

A little of all if you wisht. 

"A plenty of orschurs — chick 'n — an bred 

As white as the snow itself — 
Whole piles on the table — rolls, biskits, lofe. 

An' piles upon piles on the shelf. 
An' mity good korfy — (I drunk fo' cups) 

An' pickuls a plenty too — 
Termarters cut up an' sesoned so nice ; 

In fact wife I wisht for you. 

**The wimmin wuz thar — why yes, to be sho. 

They wornt in the crowd its true 
But from a back room whar the cookin' wuz dun, 

We could see 'em jes' peepin' thu. 
'It's rite' sez I, to my nex' do' man, 

'Thar work seems never to cese ; 
They wurked fur us hard induring the waw 

They wurk yit in times o' pese. 

*' 'An' I b'lieve when enything's goin' on, 

Whar enything good's to be foun' 
Corn shuckins or bylins or what, I b'leve 

In havin' the wimmin aroun' 



174 THE OLD COi^FED. 

They orter be fust — them's my sentiments, — 

Fust ev'ry whar' sez I, — 
And here he chuckled the old wife's chin 
As she smiled in glad reply. 

*'01e Jubal wuz thar and T tell you wife 

He's made uv the raal grit, 
Fur they've tackled him kine, and they've tackled him ruff 

But they nuver hev konkured him yit, 
John Dan'l an' Kane, an' Peterson spoke 

All three hev got branes in ther heds 
I cud'n here all, but most uv it hit 

An' I 'dorsed every wurd they sed. 

"Maree an' Wawker they speeked up too, 

(An' Wawker cum from Texez) 
An' both uv 'em 'lowd its rite to do rite, 

No matter how it vexez. 
An' Fetherstun red Lee's farewell speech, 

I tell you that wuz try in' 
I had ter choke, fur 'pon my sole, 

I lede mo' bust out cryin'. 

"The prayin' wuz good an' the spekin' fine 

It brort it all back, — the day 
Our cump'ny set out from Piney Ridge Run 

To jine in the orful fray. 
Kirk Otey wuz thar an' a man is he — 

An' both o' them Peatown Bodes. 
But sumhow when Otey an' me shuk ban's 

I thort o' po' Garlan' an' Rodes. 



THE OLD COKFED. 175 

*^Them Lynchburg boys I knode mifcy well 

They wuz mity good solejeers too; 
Meem, Chalmers, Goggin an' Terry, all 

Wuz tru men thu and thu. 
Sum say that the good die fust an' now 

It is sum times hard to tell, — 
Which uv us wuz best orf arfter all 

We here, — or them that fell. 

"Seth Peters wuz thar, an' set nex' to me, 

Eube Akers he sot close by, — 
You rickerlec' wife they took kere o' Sam 

Po' boy, when he lay down to die. 
Eufe Dawsen cum up an' he jerked my han' 

An' we both set to a countin', — 
Sez he 'komrid whar did I see yo las'?' 

Sez I — *at Cedar Mountin.' 

'*And both of us tawked and tawked, an' both 

Fit over the battle agin, — 
You know it wuz thar a shell whizzed by 

An' grazed me here under the chin. 
Sum feller got sick an' they took him home 

An' a doctur wuz sent fur too. 
But he 'lowed — 'too much reunion, friend. 

Is all that's the matter with you.' 

''Gray Latham cum up — 'When I sede you last', 

Sez he — 'I sede you runin.' 
But he laf fc outrite when I bristled up, 

An' I knode he wuz only funnin' 



176 THE OLD_COi^FED. 

Gray looks as harty an' peart an' well 

An' as sassy too beside, 
As when I seed him at old Manass 

A-mountin' his gun astride. 

"Them Lynchburg boys wuz solid stuff, 

They always showed their faces — 
An' did'n play possum an' try to sherk 

An' hide in bum-prufe places. 
Po' Davis, an' Yancey, and Sarnders too 

Had all the same proud story — 
Fur them, an' AYaller, an' little Burks 

All fell on the field o' glory. 

"An' so did both 'er them Early boys. 

An' the Jinninses, Tom an' Will, 
An' Tyree, an' Calhune, an' Sebery — yas 

An' a plenty mo'uv 'em still. 
I'm po' at 'memberin' names, an' yit 

I knode the ways they took — 
But ef I can't call 'em here, all the same 

They're writ down in the Book. 

"I tell you, waw is a turruble thing, 

'Mong 'Merikins, 'Merikin born 
Its like ole nabors fallin' out, an' turnin' 

Hogs in wun nuther's corn. 
We iviiz rite, understan', still a orful thort 

This fite'n, er wun unnuther 
Fur it takes a beste to slay its own. 

And a Cain to kill his bruther. 



THE OLD COKFED. I77 

'*You see how it wuz; when the Yanks cum here, 

We cude'n be 'posed upon — 
Thar wuz nuthin' lef but fur ev'ry man 

To git up an' sholeder his gun. 
We had to fite 'em in self- def ens', 

We cude'n tu'n the tables; 
When Cain cums 'long you got to mek terms, 

Or lay down an' die like Abels. 

*'But fur my part T want to live out 

The rest o' my days in pese. 
I want ter hev nuthin' gin nobody else 

Nur them agin me when I cese, 
I thort it all over the tuther nite, 

An' sez I to myself— sez I — 
Jes' kepe that way an' you need'n fere 

When you cum to lay down an' die. 

''Sich thorts will pop in a feller's hed 

Howsumuver et ermounts, 
Fur you kno' the time have got to cum 

When we bleeged to settle accounts. 
I dunno ef eny the rest took in 

The thorts that wuz bothernin' me, 
But sart'n an' sho thar wuz whiter beds 

Than mine in that company. 

*'But the boys was lively as two-year colts, 

An' the jokes went roun' an' roun', 
An' splendider rashuns wuz nuver sarved 

In the wide worl' I'll be boun'. 



178 THE OLD CONFED. 

But it's over now an' I'm home agin 

An' a white cold moon's a dawnin', 
I wunder ef all the terbacker's cut 

Thar's sho' to be frost in the mawnin'. 

"Well! hang up the ole gray cote now, wife, 

I raaly do not kno' 
If uver in all the yeres to cum, 

I shall war it agin eny mo. 
But ef you're the longest liver, mind, 

Put it on me when I'm ded 
And berry my muskit and ole canteen 

With me in my narrer bed. 

*'I want to be knode for jes what I wuz 

When I rize up at Jedgment Day : 
I want em to say — ^Hhars a ole Confed 

An'^ lie^s warrin the same ole gray.'''' 
I nuver wuz shamed uv it yit an thats 

Not all — I nuver shall be 
For the proudest yeres uv my life at las' 

Wuz the yeres that I follered Lee. 

"Why, that man Kane in his speech tether night 

Had the kurridge to git up an' say 
That the crowns — now mind you, the crowns would be give 

To them that had wo' tl;ie gray, 
But I'll tell you mo in the mawnin', wife, 

For Im not over well to-nite 
Ive wawked from the stashun, ten mile or more 

An' I'm tired an' broke down quite." 



THE OLD CONFED. 179 

He slept — and the moon shone calmly down 

O'er that home in the uplands wide, 
And lo ! in the morning a blighting frost 

Had covered the mountain side. ; 

But a whitei!' frost on his bosom lay [ 

As he stirred not in his bed, 
For Death, in the calm still night had come 

And called for the old Confed. 

And he knew the sound of the Master's voice 

And answered to the call, 
And the old gray coat was again pulled down 

From its peg in the whitewashed wall. 
They dressed him in it and placed beside 

His canteen and his gun — 
And they made a grave on the mountain slope 

Where they laid him at set of sun. 

And his old wife bending above that grave 

Heart stricken — was heard to say 
That he muttered something in sleep last night 

About the Keunion Day. 
Perhaps he was donning his gray coat then 

For the journey to Heaven afar, 
Since his soul went up from the reunion here 

To the better reunion there. 

The tall pines swayed on the Ridge that night 

And the owl from her covert nigh 
Hooted her moan to the rippling stream 

That mirrored the starlit sky. 



180 THE OLD CONFED. 

And a lonely heart in that cabin home 

Mourned another heart at rest, — 
For love will sorrow to lose its own 

Though all God's ways are best. 

The years may come and the years may go 

And bear on their changeful tide, 
The joys and sorrows and hopes of earth 

And their scattered wrecks beside, 
But never a braver, manlier heart 

Than rests in that grave so lone, 
And when it is opened Angel hands 

Will have rolled away the stone. 

Blow softly oh wailing winter winds, 

Wave banners of autumn red ! — 
And ye stars keep watch o'er the mountain slope 

Where they buried the old Confed. 
For he sleeps the sleep of the just I know 

In his moth eaten coat of gray. 
And the Lord will find him whenever he calls 

For his own at the Judgment Day. 

OctoUr 10, 1888. 



VICTORY. 181 



VICTORY! 

A Scene at Turin after the news from Gaeta 1861. 



\ 



y ^HE night along the crowded street 
-f» Flashed out in splendor bright, 

As from the flambeaued windows blazed 



? A radiant tide of light. 
A thousand voices echoed loud 

The news of victory ; 
The fight was o'er and Turin cried 

'*Ancona will be free." ^ 

The maidens set their dainty hands 

To twining garlands fair — 
The matrons theirs to mincing meats 

The great feast to prepare. 
The fruits were gathered full and ripe, 

The wine was old and red ; 
Gay hands were there with blossoms rare 

To crown the Victor's head. 

Their heroes came — the rabble cheered. 

Glad faces thronged the street, 
And shouting voices welcomed back 

The proud returning feet. 
While from a darkened casement lone, 

Whence came no note of song, 
A fair-haired boy looked eager out 

Upon the enraptured throng. 



182 VICTOEY. 

"Oh, mother, mother look,*' he cried. 

"All Turin's out tonight, 
I never thought in all my life, 

To see so grand a sight." 
The mother smiled a calm, sad smile, 

"Hush, hush, my son," she said — 
"While Turin has her flashing lights, 

"We only have our dead. 

"We only have our dead, my boy, 

'Twere well that you should learn 
How hearts may bleed and break the while. 

Triumphant torches burn." 
"But see — they strew the way with flowers. 

Mother, I heard them say, 
That for the feast they make tonight, 

Blood stained the field that day.'* 

"Ah, yes — 'blood stained the field,' and yet 

They shout of victory — 
The wine is poured, the feast is spread, 

But not for you and me. 
They have the triumph, proud and grand, 

By song and music led — 
Turin her banquet has my boy. 

But we — we have our dead." 



ONLY A PICTURE. 183 



ONLY A PICTURE. 

Inscribed to Rev'd, Geo. A. Caldwell of Athens, Tennessee. 

T WAS only a picture small and fair 
iflj Of a little face pale and wan, 

That he drew from his bosom and gave to me 
For a moment to look upon. 
'Twas a simple sketch of a little form 

He had tenderly called his own. 
When the golden light of the years agone 
O'er his heart and his threshhold shone. 

It was only a picture mute and still 

Of a beautiful child at rest, 
With the bright eyes closed in their deathless sleep 

And the hands crossed over the breast. 
There were pencilled lines of a pillow soft 

Where the suffering head had lain 
Ere the Angel of God her forehead touched 

And forever banished pain. 

There were traces of flowers — sweet fragrant flowers 
That were scattered with careless grace 

In their morning freshness to fade and die 
By the light of a shrouded face. 



184 ONLY A nCTUllE. 

And ho liinullod it gently — ii sacred thing — 
While he tearfully gazed and smiled; 

'Tvvas only a picture but 'twas all 
Left now of his Angel child. 

lie would seo hor no more this side of Hoavon, 

She had passed like a dream from Earth, 
And the love that followed her parting step 

Was the same that smilod atjier birth. 
Would ho ever visit the little grave? 

Ah, he told mo that long ago 
lie was rudely driven from homo and hearth 

By the will of a vandal foe. 

And that wife and children wore left behind 

In the enemy's linos afar — 
To encounter without his sustaining arm 

All the horrors of cruel war. 
It was only a few days since a I'riond 

'Must banislied like mo," ho said, 
Brought a letter from home with the i)ainful news 

That my dear little girl was dead. 

And this picture her mother sent out to me. 

It was taken just after she died — 
And again ho placed it Avith trembling hand 

Near his sorrowing heart beside. 
So that mother is weeping alone tonight 

As she thinks oC her dead so fair 
And gathers around her the toys she loved 

And the garments she used to wear. 



WOUNDKI) AT NKW MAkKKT. 185 

But a brief hour more and will) ])row KCTdiuj 

And a countmiiiiKuj rnoolc and cjiirn, 
This man at Ood's Altar such rnossa^'o Hpoh; 

As fell on lli(5 heart like halm. 
And me-thouglit — so comforts tin; Ij(>rd 11 in own 

When thoir eyes are with we(;|)in^^ dim — 
For I know in this ^n)od man's tryin/.^ Iionr 

An angel had strengtJiened liim. 



WOUNDED AT NEW MARKET. 

Cadet Thf>ni;is White of Abin^rlon, Vn. 

'OliXDKD at New Market"— sh>wly he raised 
Up to meet mine his bright beautiful eyes, 
VVhil(; from the broad open window he gazed 
Out on the rad sunset's slow fading dyes; 
Earth in the twilight looked wondrously fair 
To the wan eyes of the invalid there. 



w 



Seventeeen summers — their freshness and bloom 
Only had passed o'er that fair youthful brow, 

Tears had not crowded their dark lines of care 
Into thos(; featnrcjs so j)ale stricken now. 

Life had thrown out but its sunnliine and joy 
O'er the bright path of the young soldier-fjoy. 



186 WOUNDED AT KEW MARKET. 

Months had passed by since he fearlessly stood 
"Where over battling hosts bright banners waved, 

Struggling — nor pausing, till poured his young blood 
Like precious wine on the field he had saved. 

Now on his weary couch helpless he lay 

K'ursing proud thoughts of that glorious day. 

Soft o'er his pillow the sweet moonbeams roll 
Gently caressing the form worn and weak, 

Cool to his temples the night breezes stole 
Tenderly kissing the pale-fevered cheek ; 

While from the quiet room on the still air 
Rises the low, whispered murmur of prayer. 

God of the true and tried, — God of the brave ; 

Hear her who pleads for him — hear and relieve ; 
Comfort and healing give — pity and save 

All whc for Truth and Right suffer or grieve ; 
Heed a fond mother's prayer — long years of joy 

Grant, in thy love, to her brave soldier boy. 

Such was my heart's response when by his side 
Tearfully scanning the bright boyish face, 

Questioned I how in life's early spring-tide 
Came o'er his features their pale fever trace. 

Smiled he and turning his beautiful head, 
*'Woanded at New Market" — softly he said. 



THE SKOW. 187 




THE SNOW, 

OFTLY— softly beautiful snow 
Down on the hills and vales below 
Let thy feathery flakes now fall 
Carefully, carefully over all, — 

Wrap in thy furrows the struggling blade 

Peering through furrows the plough share made. 

Fold in thy mantle the grain below 

Tenderly, tenderly beautiful snow. 

Over the sheltering roof I love 

Spread thy wings like a brooding dove, 

One looks out from the casement there 

Pure as thyself — as thyself as fair, 

Give her a message of love from me 

Tell her that had I thy liberty. 

Straight would I follow thy white sails o'er 

Tempest and tide to her open door. 

Soft on the grave-sod's mantling breast 
Let thy hovering pinions rest 
Lightly, lightly beautiful snow, 
Light as the halo that crowns thy brow. 
Let thy gossamer robe descend 
Where the willow and cypress bend 
Over the spot where heroes lie 
Under the blue sky's canopy. 



188 THE PRISONER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. 

They are safe from the storm without, 
Safe from the foeman's threatening shout, 
Safe from the clouds and mists that rise 
Shading the light of Earth's changeful skies. 
Oh — be each martyr's laurelled head, 
Safe from the shame of a vandal tread, 
Over their sleeping dust below 
Eest thee now tenderly, beautiful snow. 



^ 



THE PRISONER OF FORTRESS MONROE. 

THE calm blue sky looks down upon his dungeon 
cold and drear. 
The winds sigh through his prison-bars in fitful 
murmurs clear. 
The sunbeams kiss the gloomy walls, yet dare not look 

within. 
For nature's heart should grieve to see man's cruelty and 
sin. 

The breeze that wanders to his cheek and fans his silvery 
hair 

Tells the dark story of his wrong and suffering every- 
where ; 

The waves that lash the outer shore and moan their cease- 
less hymn 

Send forth a low and pitying tone of sympathy for him. 



THE PRIS02srER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. 189 

The Petrel pauses near the spot, the Curlew droops his 

wing 
The land birds have a softer tone, a sadder note to sing : 
All nature frowns upon his lot, and yet they dare to hold 
With iron grip the kingly heart they could not buy for 
gold. 

The kingly heart— ah no, thank God no judgment yet 

hath sat' 
Nor iron bands been anvilled out that e'er could fetter 

that. 
Free, unenchained his great soul looks from out his fading 

eye 
A tameless lion daring yet his keepers to descry. 

And thus while Fate's resistless web is close and closer 

wound 
That pale and drooping form, that brave and peerless soul 

around. 
The world astonished asks aloud why this unblushing 

wrong, 
And from the South's indignant heart goes up the cry, 

how long? 

IIow long shall justice plead in vain and pity's voice be 

stilled 
While Truth before resistless Power is made to bend at 

will, — 
How long shall human marmots dare their insults rude to 

throw 
on the kingly head discrowned, the Lion thus laid low. 



190 THE PRISOi^'ER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. 

Oh, ye who hold the scales of Power — remember while ye 
may 

Though vengeance sometimes tarries long she will not al- 
ways stay; 

The crawling worm that knows no law of harmony or 
strife 

Will even sting the heel that seeks to crush its struggling 
life. 

Ye call yourselves God's messengers and yet deny the 
while 

The great high law of Love that spoke from Christ's for- 
giving smile. 

Ye prate of ''''blotting out tlieimsf'' yet keeping it in view 

Forget this only that success gave nobler work to do. 
Ye call your grand assemblies all together and convene 
Your grave and solemn councils with severe and threaten- 
ing mien; 
Ye talk, devise, discuss a thousand measures, yet forego 
The plainest human duty toward the Prisoner of Monroe. 

Oh, men! put on your manhood, — rescue quick your 

Country's name 
From the world wide charge of infamy — the deepening 

brand of shame ; 
^^ Do justice and love mercy^^ let the burnished sword of 

Might 
Flash no more in helpless faces — rest it in the sheath of 

Eisfht. 



THE PEISOKEE OF PORTRESS MOi^ROE. 191 

Then the Sun will shine less sadly on those gloomy prison 

walls 
Where a noble life is fading as the lengthening shadow 

falls, 
Then bird and breeze in chorus glad will raise a thankful 

voice, 
And for his merciful release the winds and waves rejoice. 

But oh, beware, lest one approach with faster step and 

sure. 
To break the chains your hands have forged, his proud 

form to endure ; 
Beware lest pitying Death should come and lay upon his 

breast 
The holy calm of perfect peace, the signet seal of rest. 

Think not a heart in all the South that would not deeply 

burn 
Such end to all your long delay — your cruel threats to 

learn ; 
There's not a heart in all the world that would not warm 

to know 
The measure of your malice toward the Prisoner of Monroe. 

Oh grand, high heart, — oh kingly soul, be resolute and 

strong, 
The prayers and hopes of all true hearts still, still to thee 

belong; 
The love of many follows close and shall fore'er abide 
Though dark the fate that bears thee out upon a stormy 

tide. 



192 THE PKISOlSrEE OF FORTRESS MONROE. 

Be strong, be strong, — we know thou art, for none will 
e'er deny 

The fearless light that flashes forth from thy proud eagle- 
eye; 

They well may own its magic spell who once were made 
to cower 

Before the bold determined glance of its resistless power. 

Oh, days that bring to us sad thoughts and dark forebod- 
ings too. 

Let only Hope's glad visions rise before his lonely view; 

Let Faith, a white robed angel, wait beside him all the 
while 

To cheer his fainting bosom with her Heaven-approving 
smile. 

Oh, gentle night lay soothing hand upon his aching head, 
Smooth tenderly with pitying touch his coarse rude prison 

bed ; 
Pour on his troubled, dreaming heart thy pure refreshing 

balm 
And crown his weary sj^irit with thy sweet and starry 

calm. 

The coming days may bring new ills, fresh instruments of 

wrong, 
The cruel hand of power may still his sufferings prolong; 
The storm may rage and beat and break in fury o'er his 

head 
And human kindness on his path refuse one ray to shed. 



TO A WOUNDED EX-COKPEDERATE SOLDIER. 193 

The future may be darker still than e'er hath been the 

past, — 
Young hearts that now beat high may break to meet the 

worst at last ; 
We who have suffered may be called to suffer even more 
And greater, sorer evils than we e'er have known before. 

But God is good and righteous Heaven will not always 

forbear 
To meet the measure out again to those who will not spare, 
And whatsoe'er may be Ms lot or our's for weal or woe, 
There live true hearts that cling around the Prisoner of 

Monroe. 

December 6th, 1866. 



TO A WOUNDED EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIER.^* 

' ^^ T ^ — KEEP the way poor soldier — keep the pave- 
^^ ment firm and strong 

y* For surely now to such as thou, the best place 
. ^ 1 should belong — 

I walked the pleasant woods and fields with active limbs 

and free 
The while upon a gory field your's mangled were for me. 
I've wandered through the meadows green and where 

the forests dim 
Echoed no ruder, sterner sound than nature's choral 
hymn; 

*Who hobbled aside on his crutches to give me the best place on the 
sidewalk, 



194 TO A WOUKDEI) EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIER. 

The while you stood where sabres clash and deafening 

cannon roar, 
Ready for me your breast to bare, for me your blood to 

pour. 
The daylight past, my duties done, I've laid me down 

and slept 
While stars in quiet midnight skies their peaceful vigil 

kept ; 
You paced the sentry's round meanwhile through cold 

and rain and sleet ; 
Nor paused though bitter thoughts would swell your sad 

heart's lonely beat. 
And shall I now your needs ignore, or pass you idly by 
Unmindful that a tried soul looks from out your fading 

eye? 
No rather let me yield to you the pavement firm and 

strong 
Since over now to such as thou all the best place should 

belong. 



THE DEATH OF THE YOUI^'G PARTISAN-. 195 



THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PARTISAN. 

WE FELL — not where numbers were falling, 
Whose groans with the cannon-peal blend ; 
His blood with no common stream mingled, 
Where legions, with legions contend — 
Alone on the hill-side they found him 

With only his charger he stood, 
As they leaped from their lairs in the wild-wood, ^! 
Athirst for his innocent blood. 

The caitiffs were numbered by dozens — 

He facing the murderous band — 
To the roll of their guns he responded 

With a wave of his beautiful hand ; 
But closer their carbines are flashing — 

Their threats by their frowns are endorsed; 
Poor bird! from the fowlers escape thee! 

Escape ! quick ! no time must be lost. 

His hand on the trusty rein tightens, 

His spur goads the charger — away! 
Ho! whirl! But alas! all around him 

The hounds hold their victim at bay. 
Did he quail? — not a moment, believe me — 

All true to his Truth, to the last, 
He fought like a Cseser, nor paused he, 

'Till the blow and the anguish had past. 



196 THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PAETISAK. 

A charge up the hill-side ! — a volley I 

The horse leaps his rider above — 
They rush for the spoils — their booty, 

A scarfs a 7Hng, and a glove. 
What matters the story they utter, 

His dumb lips can make no appeals. 
His blood stains the scarf as it flutters, 

His hand unresistingly yields. 

Thank God ! the worst now is over, 

All past is the groan and the pain — 
They may scar, they may rob, they may mangle, 

But they never can kill him again. 
See, see ! — they are bearing him gently—^ 

What matters their gentleness now? 
Ah, cowards ! you dared not dishonor 

The halo that circles his brow. 

They have laid him down under the hawthorn, 

A ringdove is scared from her nest. 
While the little brook sings in the meadow 

A dirge for the hero at rest. 
God's sun over all, too, is shining — 

He looks from His kingdom of bliss, 
On a world that for mercy and kindness. 

Returns a thanksgiving like this. 

Oh, Father in Heaven! befriend us — 
The war- wolves are still on our track; 

Our innocents take to thy bosom. 
But ne'er to the spoiler give back. 



THE DEATH OE THE YOUKG PARTISAN. 197 

They have laughed at the tears we are shedding ; 

They have mocked at the prayers that we gave ; 
Our Mother, Virginia, is wailing — 

Oh, Father, deliver and save ! 

The prayer on the Spring breezes floated. 

The tramp of the f oeman was still ; 
When the moon, in her calm, quiet beauty. 

Rose smilingly over the hill. 
Who thought in the years that have vanished — 

The years of the glad Long Ago — 
That her soft, gentle rays would be falling 

To-night on such pictures of woe ! 

Who, yesterday even, would augur. 

From aught that a prophet could say, 
That the fair, boyish brow, then so peerless. 

Would drip with its own gore to-day? 
He sleeps while his comrades are calling — 

"To saddle! to saddle! proclaim!" 
He smiles in his sleep, but he heeds not 

The echo that answers his name. 

Oh, comrades ! — too late for the rescue ! 

Strike! strike though! with ball and with blade! 
For the murderers still howl in the distance — 

He lies there asleep in the shade. 
They weep — e'en the stoutest and bravest — 

Tears fall on the hillock like rain — 
Ha, boys ! quick ! a breath stirs the hawthorn ! 

To saddle ! to saddle ! ao^ain. 



198 THE DEATH OF THE YOUKG PABTISAK. 

Oh, the hawthorn, the hawthorn, who reckoned 

That ever the bank where it stood, 
Would, along with the dews that impearled it, 

Be crimsoned with innocent blood ! 
Who dreamed, as they saw it there, hiding 

The nest which a ringdove had made, 
That a fair, fallen son of Virginia 

Would sleep in its beautiful shade. 

The soft, swaying winds interlacing 

The boughs to a self -woven crown. 
Sighed low, as upon the green hillock. 

They laid the young warrior down. 
They laid him there tenderly, they who 

A moment before saw him fall, 
His locks dripping blood that had followed 

The blow of their pitiless ball. 

Ah, well may their conscience awaken 

Remorse for the merciless deed; 
Each soul has a Judge to account to — 

Each life has its hour of need. 
Remember it. Vandals, remember. 

You slew him alone on the hill. 
And that God, whose commandments you trample, 
Can be his Avenger, and luill. 

I wonder not that you should cover 
His pale, stricken brow with a pall; 

You could not, you dared not encounter 
The dumb face that smiled on you all. 



THE DEATH OF THE YOUKG PARTISA:^". 199 

'Tis over. You hurry and leave him — 

The blast of your bugle is nigh ; 
The wind through the hawthorn is sighing, 

The streamlet goes murmuring by. 

But a heart in the meanwhile is waiting, 

Close by where the mansion-lights burn ; 
An eye o'er the hill-side is peering 

To see her brave soldier return. 
What news shall we give her? The tidings, 

That true to your leader's command, 
You found him alone on the hill-side. 

And slew — with a merciless hand? 

I'd rather not tell her the sequel. 

How, gloatingly over your prize. 
You stood all amazed at the beauty 

That shone from his dark, dying eyes. 
I'd rather not tell how you hurried 

To tear off the badge from his breast. 
Scarcely waiting till God's silent angel 

Might bear the brave soul to its rest. 

She tied on that scarf in the morning ; 

She gave him the ring and the glove ; 
And about him, a talisman holy. 

She threw the bright shield of her love. 
'Tis done. You may go to your leader. 

And tell him the glorious ( !) tale — 
That a heart for your bold deed is breaking, 

Its sighs floating out on the gale. 



200 THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PARTISAN. 

It were well for you, too, to remember, 

Though fallen his bright, laurelled head, 
That for one dauntless arm you have smitten, 

A thousand will spring in its stead. 
Yea, a thousand will rise to avenge him. 

His name will their war-spirit thrill ; 
Ah, 'twas no common prey that you hunted. 

And slew all alone on the hill. 

Those dark eyes you saw were his mother's. 

The smile that he wore was her own. 
And I know that her spirit from Heaven 

Looked down on her pale, murdered son; 
And she stretched forth her arms to receive him. 

When helpless, and pallid, and still. 
He lay where your cruel hands left him 

Alone, all alone on the hill. 

There's another, immortal and glorious. 

The Grandsire * who clasped to his knee. 
That boy with his baby-locks floating 

Around a pure brow, glad and free. 
Do you think while lie stood your defender. 

And labored for Eight to the last. 
That he thought of an hour when you'd scoff at 

The memory of services past? 

It is said that the dead do behold us 
When Heaven the veil tears away, 

And that spirits released still yearn fondly 
For those who are struggling with clay. 

* Ex-President Tyler. 



VIkgikia's dead. 201 

Then remember who saw you, when pity • 
Failed wholly your stone hearts to move ; 

When like vultures, with hands red and gory, 
You murdered the child of his love. 

Ah, the day will come yet in the future, 

When the country lie strove to redeem, 
Will arise in her strength self-existent. 

And the light of her glory shall beam. 
Then the Army of Martyrs in Heaven 

Will echo her glorious call, 
And among them you'll see in its beauty 

The dumb face that smiled on you all. 

March 31st, 1865. 



VIRGINIA'S DEAD. 

" V^ROUD mother of a race that reared 
:^ 1 The brave and good of ours, 
Q^ Lo! on thy bleeding bosom lie 
Thy 23ale and perished flowers. 

Where'er upon her own bright soil 
Hosts meet their blood to shed — 

Where brightly gleams the victor's sword, 
There sleep Virginia's dead. 

And when upon the crimsoned field 

The cannon loudest roars. 
And hero-blood for liberty 

A streaming torrent pours ; 



202 VIRGINIA'S DEAD. 

Where fiercest grows the battle's rage 
And Southern banners spread; 

Where minions crouch and vassals kneel, 
There sleep Virginia's dead. 

Where bright Potomac's classic wave 

Rolls softly to the sea, 
And Shenandoah's sweet valley smiles 

In her captivity ; 
Where Mississippi sullen rolls 

His foaming torrent bed. 
And Tennessee's smooth ripples break, 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

And where mid dreary mountain heights 

The Frost-king sternly sate, 
As Garnett cheered his legion on 

And nobly met his fate ; 
Where Johnstok, Lee and Beauregard, 

Their gallant armies led, 
Through winter snows and tropic suns, 

There sleep Vrginia's dead. 

And where through Georgia's flowery meads 

The proud Savannah flows, 
As soft o'er Carolina's brow 

Atlantic's pure breeze blows ; 
Where Florida's sweet tropic flowers 

Their dewy fragrance shed, 
And night-winds sigh through orange groves 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 



Virginia's dead. 203 

Where Louisiana's eagle eye 

Frown's darkly on her chains, 
And proud New Orleans' noble streets 

The Despot's heel profanes — 
Where Virtue shrinks in dread dismay 

And Beauty bows her head, 
While Valor spurns th' oppressor's yoke. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

'Neath Alabama's sunny skies, 

On Texas' burning shore, 
Where blooming prairies brightly sweep 

Missouri's bosom o'er, 
Where bold Kentucky's lion heart 

Leaps to her Morgai^t's tread. 
And tyrants quail at Freedom's cry. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

And where the Ocean's trackless waves 

O'er pallid corpses sweep, 
As mid the cannon's deafening peal. 

Deep calleth unto deep; 
Where ever Honor's sword is drawn 

And Justice rears her head — 
Where heroes fall and martyrs bleed. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 



August IStli^ 1862. 



204 AK APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON" DAVIS. 



AN APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS. 

To His Excellency, Andrew Johnson, President of the United States. 

T TNHERALDED, imknown, I come to thee, 
I fL\ ^^^^ boldest in thy hands the scales of power; 
14^1 Assured thou will not spurn the suppliant, 
hi — I Who with frail, helpless hands and burning 

heart. 
Lays at thine honored feet Jier simple plea 
Of ''Mercy for the Captive:' 

Thou hast known 
The tempefet-tossings of a chequered life, 
The chill of adverse winds, the wintry blight 
Of hopes too fondly cherished. Thou hast seen 
How frail a bubble is the world's applause. 
How empty its poor praise. Oh ! pity us 
On whose life -paths shadows have darkly fallen, 
Whose bruised hearts thy clemency may heal. 
We plead for one, honored, revered, beloved. 
Spare him^ on whose brave head cowards would lay 
A nation's penalty. If he has sinned. 
The humblest champ'on of our fallen cause 
Did just as truly sin, — if guilty he. 
Our Jackso:n" too was guilty, yet who seeks 
To brand Ms glorious name? Ah, who so bold 



AN APPEAL POR JEPFEESOK DAVIS. 205 

As, with the lash of stern rebuke, to dare 
Asail whom God approveth?— Jackson's soul 
Kests with the Crucified,— shall Davis bear 
The penance of his guilt? 

Oh, honored Chief, 
Be kind, he just to him whom Jackson loved. 
And proudly honored with his high esteem: 
Upon his head blessings unspoken rest— ties 
Stronger than hooks of steel circle him round; 
Prayers froai unnumbered hearts go up for him. 
Art thou a huslaiid? — for Ms safety now, 
A wife sits weeping through the lonely hours 
Of his long absence. Silent, bitter tears 
Y/ell from her burdened heart, while boding fears 
Sadden with anxious thoughts her sleepless pillow. 
Arc thou a father?— In their stranger home 
Young children watch for Jiim, and pause to hear 
The step that comes not -aye, they often ask, 
*' Where is our father?— lohy does he not come?" 
And grave lips blanch and quiver in reply, 
An talk of ''iwayer'' and m\''aMdin(j trust'' 
In thf^ All-Father, God. Oh, round his neck 
Fond arms would gladly circle; prattling lips 
Would pour into his ear their music-tones 
Of simple, guileless love. Say, would'st thou give 
Joy to these blameless ones? then open wide 
His dreary prison door. 

For this one act. 
Heaven would smile on thee in that solemn hour 
When life is pausing at the gates of Death, 



20G AK APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS. 

And thy sole hoije is Christ's heneficence. 

Aye, for this single act, so mucli clesh^edy 

A thousand hearts would pour their prayers for thee 

At God's own mercy-seat; a thousand tougues 

Would speak thy praise, as that of one who knew 

How, with the tempted hand of conscious power, 

To shield the helpless. 

Oh, most honored Chief, 
Head of a mighty nation! — lend thine ear 
To this poor, earnest plea for one beloved. 
Set the brave captive free ! and when at last 
Thy soul stands trembling at that judgment-seat 
Where prayers avail not, when the v/ritten scroll 
Of human deeds is opened, and there lies 
The record of thy life^ — should aught appear 
Which justice would consign to punishment. 
May the recording angel Uot it oiit, 
And o'er thy name, in testimony, write, 
^^ Blessed are the merciful.''^ 

Octoher 22, 1865. 



FAEEWELL TO THE FLAG. 207 




FAREWELL TO THE FLAG. 

ARE WELL, farewell, to thee, glorious banner! 

The hopes of a nation have followed thee long — 
The blood of her slain, like the Heaven-sent 
manna, 

O'ershadows the ground of her suffering and wrong. 
Around thee have gathered the noblest and bravest 

That ever for Freedom and Liberty bled. 
And above thee once glistened the star of a Promise 

As bright as the beams which the morning hath shed. 
Farewell, farewell, faded emblem of glory. 

Lost hope of a people God made to be free, 
Thou'lt live yet, ennobled in song and in story. 

When those that disowned thee, dishonored shall be. 

Thou'lt live — aye, embalmed in the hearts, torn and 

bleeding. 

That throbbed for thy triumph, and wept at thy fall, 

And at last when proud Liberty leaps from her thraldom 

The blood of thy martyrs will answer her call. 

July 16tn, 1865, 



SEP 22 1899 



